Dreamwalker
by Mercurial Phoenix
Summary: Legend tells of a boy who is doomed to walk in dreams, and of a world that is doomed if he does not wake.
1. the past and the prologue

((Long ago,)) said the man with an inscrutable smile, ((there lived a witch.))

))God help you if you're referring to my age _again,_(( said the woman sitting in the chair across from him, her smoky carmine eyes narrow on his face.

((No, no, my dear,)) said the man, laughing a little. ((This is a legend. All legends must start out this way.))

The woman looked slightly mollified, but mostly still suspicious.

((As I was saying,)) continued the man patiently, ((this witch was very powerful, and skilled in many things. But she knew that she was not immortal, and so she began to train a young apprentice in her craft.)) The man's eyes seemed intense for a moment as they met the woman's.

))I've heard this one already,(( she said, but the man only smiled and said, ((Shh. Listen.)) When she said nothing in reply, he went on.

((Her apprentice was young and very intelligent, but very headstrong and apt to get into trouble. The witch did her best to help her apprentice without appearing to do so, for it would not do for the witch's apprentice to be unable to solve trivial problems without assistance. The apprentice learned quickly, and was a promising replacement for the witch, who wanted above all for her apprentice to be happy. Even if her apprentice had the tendency to argue with her and sometimes ignore her advice, the witch was patient. She taught her apprentice many forms of magic, hoping that one day her apprentice would grow into the power and use it wisely.))

))This story is boring,(( complained the woman. ))And I don't even have any alcohol. How am I supposed to ignore you if I don't have alcohol to get drunk with?((

The man chuckled, but his eyes were serious. ((You may want to pay attention, my dear,)) he said softly. ((This story is important.))

The woman frowned, but subsided.

((One day the witch had a strange vision. She saw far into the future, and she saw that her apprentice had taken her place, and was doing rather well, even though there was great danger abundant, for a terrible evil was trying to conquer all worlds.)) The man pretended not to notice that the woman had tensed and sat straighter in her chair, her jewel-toned eyes now sharp and wary. Satisfied that he had her full attention, he continued, ((The witch's apprentice was fighting against the evil, and in order to do so, had taken an apprentice of her own.))

The woman lifted one eyebrow. ))She had, had she?(( she murmured, as if amused at the idea.

((Yes,)) agreed the man. ((This new apprentice was very much like the witch's apprentice herself had been in her girlhood: very energetic and stubborn to a fault, never willing to take orders, and a magnet for all sort of trouble.))

))Ahem,(( said the woman pointedly.

The man only smiled at her. ((The witch saw that her apprentice's apprentice had a peculiar power, one that the witch had heard of, but never seen before with her own eyes.)) He paused.

The woman waited with an air of impatience.

((The apprentice's apprentice was a Dreamwalker.))

The woman's eyes widened.

))A Dreamwalker,(( she whispered, her eyes going out of focus as if she was looking at something inside of herself. ))One who walks through life in dreams and does not realize his own state of unconsciousness.((

((Yes,)) said the man. ((And the witch saw that her apprentice knew about the Dreamwalker, and also saw that the Dreamwalker was connected very tightly to others who were deeply involved in the fight against the evil moving over the worlds.))

))Connected how?(( said the woman sharply.

The man looked at her for a moment. ((The witch could not see,)) he said finally, but the woman snapped, ))But _you_ can. Damn you, if there's a chance that this Dreamwalker can be of use to—((

((People,)) said the man gently, ((are not tools to be used, my dear lady.))

The woman looked as if she wanted to argue, but she only scowled. ))Speaks the hypocrite.((

The man shook his head with a small smile. ((I do not understand your persistence in casting me in the role of puppet-master, my dear.))

))The moon in the moon castle with a snow rabbit as a disguise?(( said the woman dryly, and was vindicated by the look of chagrin that crossed the man's face.

((Yes, well. That is not puppetry,)) said the man with great dignity, straightening his glasses. ((That is simply irresistible.))

The woman rolled her eyes. ))Back to your story, creep.((

The man wondered whether or not to protest the epithet, but graciously allowed it to pass. ((Agreed. The witch did not know how the Dreamwalker was connected to the fight, but she was certain that her apprentice would be able to figure it out.))

))Of course she was,(( muttered the woman, nonplussed. ))That was always her excuse. 'You'll realize it someday.' Old bat.(( She gave the man a look of pure annoyance. ))I am _never_ going to use those words on my apprentice. I _know_ how frustrating it is to be told 'someday, someday,' all the time.((

((Yes,)) murmured the man. ((Character-building, isn't it?))

))Shut up, cretin.((

Again he ignored the insult and instead said, ((Well, that is your choice, of course. But to continue the story, the witch saw that her apprentice had discovered something of vital importance.))

The woman waited while the man paused for dramatic effect, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again.

((If the Dreamwalker was left to wander in dreams forever, and was not awakened, the fight against the evil would be lost.))

The woman inhaled slowly and exhaled just as slowly, as if counseling herself to be calm.

((Moreover, the witch's apprentice had found another, one with the power to awaken the Dreamwalker.))

The woman jerked forward. ))A Dreamwaker?((

The man nodded. ((The witch saw that her apprentice had done nearly everything in her power to bring the Dreamwalker and the Dreamwaker together, short of manipulating their hitsuzen. But time was running short, and the evil was growing strong.))

The man trailed off for so long that the woman frowned in concern. ))What happened then?(( she said in a soft voice.

He blinked, and looked up at her. ((The vision ended,)) he said quietly. ((The witch renewed her efforts to teach her apprentice the necessary magic to find the Dreamwalker and the Dreamwaker, and to fight the evil that would spread. And she waited.))

Silence descended after the man finished his legend, broken only by the sound of the fire crackling beside them. Both man and woman were lost in thought, in legend, in past and future.

Until, as it did so regularly, the present intruded upon the reverent quiet.

"MAAAAAAAASTER!" wailed the large cat-like creature as he flew into the room, his giant shimmering wings tinged a soft peach color by the firelight. "HE'S BEING UNREASONABLE AGAIN!"

"No, _you_ are simply being ridiculous again," said the angel-like figure who entered the room, his silver eyes etched with irritation, his own wings hidden from view. "I am merely being practical in self-defense."

"SEE!" wailed the cat-like creature, burying his great armored face in the man's lap.

The angel-like figure sighed heavily. "Stop assaulting the Master, you ignoramus."

"MASTER, HE CALLED ME A—SOMETHING BAD. MAKE HIM TAKE IT BACK!" demanded the cat-like creature.

"Improve your vocabulary, fool."

"MAAAAASTEEEEEER…"

And while the man patted the cat-like creature's head and hummed reassuringly at the angel-like figure, his eyes and the woman's were locked together.

Time was running short, and the evil was growing strong, and they still had centuries to wait.

.1.

.0.

.4.

_Yuuko-san,_ said the boy, and his voice was suddenly so strong, so confident, that she looked at him in surprise.

_If there's a wish you'd like granted…if there's something that I can do…_ The boy took one of her hands in his, and she was almost stunned to feel the strength in his grip, the power rippling just under the skin.

_I'll do my very best,_ he promised her, his eyes firm and unwaveringly fixed on hers. She felt her own eyes widen in shock, an emotion she hadn't allowed herself to express for too many centuries to count. He stood there, clad in his pajamas, tearstains trailing down his cheeks, those eyes so very bright and locked onto hers, and made her a promise, a promise that no one had made for her in so long that she'd forgotten the possibility of it had even existed.

_So please tell me._

She stared at him—so fragile and so strong, so young and so very aged, having just had his life ripped out from under him and still making her that promise—and thought, damn it all, that creep had been right after all.

She was reminded of herself, the _her_ of long ago, and felt humbled for the first time in years.

As she pulled him into her arms and embraced him with that feeling still coursing through her, in that instant before the dream faded and he was forced once again to walk through dreams, so far away from the world where he wanted to be, her eyes drifted closed, and she wished.

_I wish for your safe return._

He faded from her arms.

_Come back to us soon…Watanuki._


	2. the boy and the balance

Watanuki opened his eyes and found himself in an empty landscape. Nothing but white surrounded him, as though he were standing in the center of a blank canvas that stretched for miles in any direction.

He was still warm from Yuuko's embrace, but that cold ball of fear was still in his stomach, too—that fear that had almost strangled him as he'd begged Yuuko for answers. He reached up wonderingly and touched the tear tracks on his cheek.

If it was true…if he wasn't actually—he choked on the word 'real' even in his mind—then that meant that his entire life was…

_An illusion. A fairy tale. A lie._

He shook his head quickly, using his fist to scrub away the tear tracks. Yuuko-san had told him, _There are two dreams…Either dream may become reality if you strongly wish for it._

Two dreams. One while he was asleep, and the other while he was…

_But I'm not awake,_ he thought with a fresh wave of despair. _I'm never really awake. I'm never really there, in that world. I don't really belong in that place, with those people. I'm not—not real. Not real, not real, not real…_

Under the unbearable weight of that realization, Watanuki sank to his knees, then collapsed forward onto his elbows, tears falling thick and fast onto the emptiness beneath him, disappearing into oblivion.

"Oi."

At first he thought the voice—of all voices for him to hear at this moment—was another hallucination, another _notrealnotreal_ part of him, but when he looked up, still hunched on his elbows and knees, he saw the impassive face of Doumeki Shizuka staring down at him.

For a moment he felt a fleeting sense of déjà vu—hadn't they been in exactly the same positions after Doumeki had shot the spirit woman? He felt nauseous as he realized that she, too—the only person he'd felt had understood his loneliness in such a long, long time—had not truly existed outside of his own mind.

Something of the nature of his thoughts must have shown in his expression, because he thought he saw a mild concern flashing in those amber eyes.

"Oi," said Doumeki again. "What are you doing? You look like a dog that's been kicked by his owner." He paused as if in thought, then added, "I suppose Yuuko-san ordered you to do something else for her?"

_Yuuko-san? His _owner?

Well. Desperate and hopeless he may be, but Watanuki Kimihiro was not going to go down with a fight.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE, YOU JERK?"

Doumeki only looked down at him. "Right now I'm wondering what you're doing huddled on the ground."

"Having a party," Watanuki snapped, struggling to his knees and conscientiously wiping his face.

Doumeki watched him rub away the tear tracks. "Some party," he returned flatly, "if you're crying like that."

"It's _my _party," Watanuki shot back. "I can cry if I want to."

Doumeki simply shrugged and looked around the empty whiteness. "Why am I in your dream?" he asked as Watanuki climbed to his feet, still eradicating all evidence of tears.

"Because hitsuzen hates me," Watanuki muttered. "How the hell am _I _supposed to know, idiot?" Then he blinked at Doumeki. "Wait. How did you know we're in _my_ dream? For all you knew, _I _could have been in one of _yours."_

The archer lifted an eyebrow. "We're not," he said shortly. "If we were in my dream…" His eyes flickered over Watanuki's face; Watanuki frowned at him in confusion. Doumeki turned away. "I'd be able to tell," was all he said.

Watanuki rolled his eyes. "Right. Because you know everything."

"About you? Yeah."

The reply was so deadpan, so calmly delivered, that it took Watanuki a moment to realize what had been said. _"WHAT?"_

Doumeki plugged his ears.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'YEAH'? YOU CRETIN, YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME, HOW DARE YOU ASSUME THAT YOU—"

"Green."

Watanuki was brought up short. "What?" he said, a little out of breath.

"Your favorite color is green. Forest green."

Watanuki stared at Doumeki, mystified. "What—but…How—How do you know that?" he demanded. "Are you stalking me? Oh, my God, you are," he breathed in horror, backing away a step. "You follow me everywhere. You interrupt my time with Himawari-chan. You…you bug me all the time. You make me make you food."

"You do that on your own," pointed out Doumeki. "And stop backing away," he added irritatedly. "I'm not going to jump you."

"But you're a stalker," Watanuki retorted. "How am I supposed to know that you're telling me the truth?"

"Have I ever lied to you?" Doumeki said, and took a step toward him. "And I'm not a stalker. Quit backing up."

"Of course you are," Watanuki insisted, retreating a step further. "How else could you know what my favorite color is? I never told you that."

"Yes you did." Doumeki stopped moving toward him and stared at him intently.

Watanuki also stopped moving and blinked back at him, utterly bewildered. "I did?" he wondered. Then his eyebrows drew together. "I did not."

"You did."

"When?"

Doumeki's expression was unidentifiable. "When you made me those gloves."

Watanuki gaped. Then, for some odd, completely inexplicable reason, he felt himself turn bright red.

"THAT—I—THAT WAS NOT—WHAT KIND OF LOGIC ARE YOU USING?"he roared. "SINCE WHEN DOES THE COLOR OF YOUR GLOVES EQUAL MY TELLING YOU MY FAVORITE COLOR?"

Doumeki shrugged again. "Why else would you give me gloves that were forest green?"

"I—THAT'S NOT—YOU'RE BEING—" Watanuki was fishmouthing, trying to find an appropriate response.

Fortunately Doumeki absolved him of all responsibility and glanced at their surroundings again. "So why am I in your dream?" he repeated.

Watanuki glared at him, still red-faced from the previous topic of conversation. _"For—the—last—time," _he hissed through clenched teeth. _"I—don't—know—you—great—big—utter—_"

"If you don't like it, then why don't you just wake up?"

All the red, and any other color besides, drained from Watanuki's face. He felt as if something cold and stone-solid had punched him right in the solar plexus.

"I—I—"

Doumeki seemed to notice that something was horribly wrong, because he moved forward so quickly that Watanuki hadn't even blinked once before Doumeki had him by the shoulders, holding him an arm's length away, those golden eyes searching his colorless face with very real worry.

"Watanuki?"

"I…can't," whispered Watanuki, and as if admitting out loud had given the fact a new kind of power, he felt the entire world around them rumble. He was jerked against Doumeki's chest, and the archer was shielding his body with arms and hunched shoulders, as if something was coming to attack them right then and there.

The world shook and shuddered.

"Why?" said Doumeki harshly, still scanning the vast whiteness around them for some sign of an approaching foe, though his expression was as calm as if they were having a harmless conversation about something trivial like weather.

Watanuki was surprised to find himself pliant and obedient in the archer's arms. "Because," he heard himself say dazedly, "this is all a dream."

The world abruptly went still, as if his acknowledgment had pacified it.

Some moments passed, and Doumeki's carefully moderated breathing was sending soft puffs of air against Watanuki's neck. He shivered, and pulled himself away.

Doumeki stared at him. Watanuki turned away and stared bleakly out over the landscape.

"Yuuko-san told me," he said finally, his voice a whisper of sound. "She said…that everything is a dream."

"We've already established that," said Doumeki, but without any heat. Watanuki could feel that liquid gold gaze branding him, and closed his own eyes. He couldn't even find the energy anymore to be annoyed with Doumeki.

"No. She said that…there are two dreams," he said flatly. "One when I'm asleep, and one when I'm…awake. Supposed to be awake."

_Not real, not real,_ chanted the voice inside his mind.

"You're not awake right now," guessed Doumeki. "Which is why you're dreaming."

Watanuki shook his head. "You don't understand," he murmured. "I'm _never _awake. Ever. All of this—my life, the people around me, the things I do each day—it's…not real." Spoken aloud, the words seemed to vibrate with their own power.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Doumeki suddenly, striding forward again. But this time, instead of taking Watanuki by the shoulders, he grabbed Watanuki by the wrist with one hand and used the other to tilt up Watanuki's chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

Watanuki couldn't even be bothered to struggle, or to slap at him, or to react at all. "Everything I am," he whispered, wanting so badly to flinch away from the pentrating stare of those burning, burning eyes, "everything I've ever done…it's not real. It never happened. I'm dreaming all of it. Himawari-chan, the spirits, Yuuko-san…you."

Something very close to panic skidded across Doumeki's face, and Watanuki felt those fingers tighten where they gripped Watanuki's wrist and chin. There was a torrent of emotion raging inside him. He began to babble.

"I don't remember so many things from before Yuuko-san said she would grant my wish," he said in a choked voice. "I can't remember my parents' names, or their faces, or the name and face of the apartment manager who took care of me after they died. I don't remember ever tasting something I've cooked. I don't know the names of anyone else in our class. I don't know what year I am in school. Anything I remember from before Yuuko-san has to do with running away from the spirits. I don't remember when I first started talking to Himawari-chan," he said helplessly. "Or when I decided I liked her." He swallowed and forced his voice to remain steady. "I don't know why I don't like you. I don't even remember meeting you."

At this, Doumeki opened his mouth as if to tell Watanuki exactly when they'd met—the first time they'd crossed paths and tempers and verbal swords—but stopped as if someone had stolen his voice. Watanuki saw it in his eyes—Doumeki didn't know. He couldn't remember.

Because Watanuki couldn't remember. Because it hadn't happened…not really.

"Watanuki," Doumeki said at last, and to Watanuki, he sounded defeated. That, somehow, more than anything, frightened Watanuki.

Doumeki took a deep breath, then said in a carefully neutral voice, "Do you mean that you…can't wake up?"

Watanuki tried to shake his head, but Doumeki still had a firm grasp on his chin, so he only said wearily, "No. I don't know how."

"Ask Yuuko-san," suggested Doumeki immediately, his eyes hard on Watanuki's face. He had yet to remove his fingers from Watanuki's chin, but he'd slowly loosened his hold on Watanuki's wrist, now holding it only by encircling the thin bone with thumb and forefinger.

Watanuki sighed, all at once completely exhausted. "I…did," he said. "Sort of. She told me that…there are two dreams, and that either one could become reality if I wished strongly for it."

Doumeki frowned. "So the two dreams are…"

"This world—the one with you and Himawari-chan and the spirits and everyone," said Watanuki, watching Doumeki's face. "Or the other, the one without all of that. The real one."

Doumeki's fingers clenched on his chin again, tilting his face upward to meet angry golden eyes. "This _is _real," he said in a low voice. "You, Watanuki, everything about you—all of it is real. You just need to believe it is." He hesitated, then gentled his hold and asked cautiously, "What will happen if you don't wish strongly enough for either one of the two dreams?"

Watanuki stared up at him. "I'll disappear," he said softly.

As soon as he had uttered the words, a shadow passed across Doumeki's face; an emotion that Watanuki didn't recognize darkened the gold of his eyes to almost copper, thinned the set of his mouth, tightened his jaw. He let go of Watanuki's chin and took a small step backward, gazing down at Watanuki with that horrible unidentifiable not-expression. Then he turned and began to stride very quickly in the other direction, dragging Watanuki along behind him.

"Hey—wai—wha—" Watanuki stumbled and hurried to match his pace to the archer's. "Where do you think you're taking me?" he demanded, some of his confusion mixing with annoyance at the abruptness of the movement.

"To find that woman. You're going to ask her to show you a way to wake up."

"I already _told _you—will you please _slow down,_ I can't keep up with you when you're dragging me around like a madman—that she said I had to wish—"

"And you said you don't know how to do that," returned Doumeki, eerily calm in contrast to the feverish rhythm of his stride. "So we're going to ask her to tell you how."

Watanuki processed that, then asked pointedly, "And what if she doesn't know? What then, Doumeki? _Will you let go of me, I can walk, you know!_" He yanked hard against the archer's grip, which only made Doumeki tug him along more insistently like a recalcitrant puppy on a leash. This should have infuriated Watanuki, but he was preoccupied trying not to trip over his own feet.

"I'm serious," he panted. "What if there _is_ no way to wake me up, and I end up—" He swallowed nervously.

Doumeki let go of him, and stopped so suddenly that Watanuki almost ran into him. The archer swung around and _looked _at Watanuki with such force, such conviction, that any protest Watanuki might have made on the stop-and-go routine died in his throat.

"You won't disappear," said Doumeki softly, so softly that Watanuki was surprised at the gentleness of the words. Doumeki sounded almost…tender. Watanuki swallowed hard again.

"But how—" he whispered, but Doumeki just looked at him, and he trailed off.

"There's a way to save you. There always is. _I _should know."

And Doumeki set off again, albeit at a much more sedate pace. Watanuki, stunned speechless by the words as much as the emotion that colored them, followed.


	3. the witch and the warning

"_Will you come into my parlor?" said the Spider to the Fly._

"'_Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy;_

_The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,_

_And I have many curious things to show when you are there."_

"_Oh no, no," said the Fly, "to ask me is in vain;_

_For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."_

-from "The Spider and the Fly"

by Mary Howitt

After about ten minutes of walking, it became relatively clear that they'd gotten nowhere.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Watanuki said pointedly. He refrained from yelling simply because he was still a bit subdued from Doumeki's earlier comment. However, his good grace was fast fading, and he was beginning to recover some of his initial irritation with the archer.

"No," said Doumeki calmly. His pace did not slow. His direction did not change.

Watanuki huffed out a breath. "Then why, exactly, are _you _the one leading _me_ around my own dream, if you don't know where you're going?"

Doumeki glanced over his shoulder at him. "What, are you ready to take the lead now?"

_That_ stung. "Why—you—_get out of the way!"_ He swept past Doumeki as regally as any Victorian lady-of-the-manor.

He pretended not to notice the archer's smirk.

.1.

.0.

.4.

After about ten more minutes of walking, it became relatively clear that they'd gotten nowhere.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Doumeki said pointedly.

"_Shut. Up."_ Watanuki glared at him.

"Why are _you_ the one leading when—"

"Shut means close, referencing your mouth. Up would be the relative direction your jaw would have to travel in order to accomplish that action." Watanuki did his best to fix a condescending smirk upon his face.

Doumeki eyed him curiously. "I see you're feeling better," was all he said. Watanuki tried very hard to not notice the satisfaction in his tone.

"No thanks to you," he muttered.

The archer lifted an eyebrow. "Definitely better," he murmured. "Good. You're better when you act like your usual idiotic self."

Watanuki whirled on him. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING AN IDIOT? AND _EXCUSE ME_ IF MY BEING UPSET ABOUT ALL OF THIS BOTHERS YOU!"

Doumeki said simply, "Yes, it does."

"YOU INSENSITIVE—"

"I don't like it when you're unhappy."

Watanuki stopped in mid-insult and frowned. Doumeki's expression had not shifted, but something in the way the sentence was worded gave Watanuki an odd feeling. "That was a really weird thing to say," he informed the archer.

Doumeki shrugged, apparently unconcerned with the subtext of his comment.

Watanuki studied him suspiciously for another moment, wary of any impending teasing, but soon decided that the other boy was simply so unused to actually holding a real conversation—with actual speaking aloud and full object-subject-verb sentences and other people participating and everything—that his words had come out wrong. That was all.

He promptly turned away and ignored Doumeki, searching for any clue that the white landscape had changed in the past twenty minutes.

"This is getting ridiculous," he said finally. "We're not making any progress. I can't even tell if we've _gone_ anywhere. This is the stupidest dream I've ever—" He broke off suddenly, then switched topics with apparent nonchalance. "I'm starting to think we'll never find Yuuko-san."

"We won't, if you say it that way."

Watanuki threw a look of pure annoyance in Doumeki's direction. "And just what does that mean?" he demanded.

"If you say, 'We won't find her,' then you've decided that we won't find her," Doumeki said, his golden eyes narrow. "You should know by now what kind of power words hold."

The reminder of their shared experience with the identical twins made Watanuki flush. "I-I know that," he retorted. "I'm just saying we've been looking for a while now and we haven't gotten anywhere. It's irksome."

The archer looked thoughtful. "Maybe you're not looking in the right place," he suggested.

Watanuki sighed heavily in a put-upon manner. "I _know_ that," he said waspishly. "There's no reason Yuuko-san would be wandering around an empty white wasteland, is there?"

Doumeki took this as the rhetorical question it was meant to be, and instead asked, "So where do you usually go when you're looking for her?"

"I—" Watanuki paused. Had it really been so simple all this time? "Her shop," he said softly. "I go to her shop."

And once more, as if the world around them was just listening and waiting for Watanuki's go-ahead, there was a rumbling all around them, and the whiteness became blindingly bright. Watanuki was forced to squint, then to close his eyes altogether, putting a hand over them to block out the sheer brilliance of the non-color.

When he finally chanced opening his eyes again, he was standing in front of the gateposts to Yuuko's shop, and Doumeki was once again shielding him.

"You—how—when did you—why are you—GET OFF ME!"

Doumeki obediently stepped away from the red-faced Watanuki, staring at the shop. "We're here now," was all he said.

"Thank you ever so much," said Watanuki dryly. "I am not blind."

"Not anymore."

There was really no proper way to respond to that, so Watanuki merely stomped inside the gate and up the pathway, Doumeki following like a particularly annoying shadow.

It was exceedingly odd to enter the shop, knowing for the first time that he, like the shop, was not really a part of the world in which he took up space. Watanuki called out, "I'm back," before he could process the thought.

"Watanuki."

"Watanuki."

Maru and Moro appeared from the shadows, their usual exuberance and liveliness tempered down to welcoming smiles. Their hands were folded neatly in front of them; they bowed in unison.

"Welcome back, Watanuki," they chorused softly, in tones of polite respect. And to Doumeki, they also bowed and chimed together, "Welcome back, Doumeki-kun."

This was just too weird. Watanuki made eye contact with Doumeki, his own gaze radiating distress. "Hey, you two, what's with the formality?" Watanuki held out his hands to the girls, inviting them to latch onto him and drag him around as they usually did, dancing about in complex patterns and sing-songing their way onto his last nerve. He'd prefer that, he really would, to this detached courtesy. "Is something wrong?"

_Something is very wrong, Watanuki._ Yuuko's voice drifted through the air like smoke. _You already know that the balance between your dreams and your reality has been upset._

"Yuu…Yuuko-san?" whispered Watanuki. His eyes darted around, but he saw no sign of the witch.

_Come into my parlor, _said the disembodied voice. _I have something to show you._

Watanuki was frozen in place, unsure whether or not he wanted to obey Yuuko or flee from the shop. Doumeki decided for him.

"Let's go," he said, moving forward and giving Watanuki a slight nudge in the direction of the parlor.

"Don't—" His voice was nothing more than a rasp. He shook his head, jerked his shoulder away from Doumeki's hand, and snapped, _"Don't push me!"_ But his advance into the parlor was cautious and reluctant.

Yuuko was not sprawled across her chaise lounge, as he'd half suspected she'd be, smoking her pipe and leering at him in that way she had. She was, instead, standing at the shoji screen, looking through a window that Watanuki knew had not been there before.

She was dressed in full Dimension Witch regalia, with the heavy kimono pooling around her feet, her hair piled in an elegant and elaborate knot atop her head. The sight of her, attired in such a way as he'd only ever seen her in cases of extreme emergency, made Watanuki's stomach drop to his feet.

Close behind him, he could feel Doumeki tense, and felt absurdly grateful that the archer was also immediately on guard.

Yuuko continued to watch a scene out the window, but she spoke without turning to them.

"What happens when you die in a dream?"

Watanuki turned cold. He couldn't find words to answer. It was again Doumeki who took the intiative.

"It's a sign that you are being reborn elsewhere."

Watanuki looked at him, startled at the prompt answer. Yuuko, however, let out a quiet hum of appreciation.

"I forget, sometimes, that although most of your education is traditionally Shinto, you have also been taught arcane Buddhist doctrines, Doumeki-kun." She was silent for a moment. "I forget, sometimes, many things."

In the pit of Watanuki's stomach, the cold ball of fear returned with a vengeance. He couldn't move; Yuuko was standing here, not as the silly, drunken, giggling Yuuko-san he was used to, but as the Dimension Witch, and she was admitting a flaw. The world, already spinning wildly off its axis, began to shake and rattle around him once more.

Doumeki's arm shot out to pull Watanuki against him, but Yuuko didn't move. She watched out the window, apparently unaware that the walls of the shop were shaking so badly that the shoji paper was tearing in places.

"Watanuki," she said softly, and the shaking stopped. Doumeki released Watanuki even before the shorter boy could demand that he let go, but the archer's eyes were narrow and hard on Yuuko's unmoving figure.

Freed, Watanuki looked around wildly for signs of damage, but there was no indication that anything had been disturbed. Even the torn shoji was repaired, looking pristine and new.

"Yuuko-san, I—I'm—" he began, unsure whether or not to apologize—not even sure if the shaking _was_ his fault.

"I told you I had something to show you," she interrupted him, and turned away from the window, which faded from sight and became an unbroken panel of shoji paper once more. Yuuko moved to the chaise lounge and picked up a small mirror lying there that Watanuki also had not noticed. He was beginning to get a headache from things appearing and disappearing at the blink of an eye.

Yuuko held the mirror in the palm of her hand. It was small, about the circumference of a tennis ball, and had a small red ribbon threaded through a hole at one side. She solemnly held it out to Watanuki, who took it with a slightly bewildered air, holding it so that it dangled by the ribbon, twirling slightly and catching the light.

"You will need that," she said. "It is very important that you keep that with you."

"All right," said Watanuki slowly.

Yuuko smiled at him, not her usual superior smirk, but a soft, patient curve of lips that made Watanuki feel very young. "Look into it," she urged.

Watanuki obliged—and his brows drew together.

In the mirror…was himself. But at the same time, it wasn't himself. He was lying on his futon in his apartment, his eyes closed in sleep. His chest rose and fell evenly with the depth of his slumber, and there was the slightest of smiles on his face.

He looked up. "Yuuko-san?"

She smiled that same vague little smile. "That…is the other you. The one who dreams of this world and all in it."

Watanuki inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to ask a question, but Doumeki once more beat him to it.

"If he stops dreaming—if he wakes up—what will happen to this world?"

Yuuko looked at him. "That can only be decided by Watanuki himself," she replied. "If Watanuki believes this world is the real one, then when he wakes, he will do so in this world. If he does not believe that this world is his true plane of existence…" She let the sentence trail off.

But Doumeki wasn't done.

"As long as the mirror shows him sleeping, there's no chance that Watanuki in this world—in this dream—will wake up?"

Watanuki wondered whether he should be insulted that they were speaking of him as though he wasn't there. _But then again, I'm not really,_ he thought, and shuddered.

"Correct." Yuuko met Doumeki's fierce gaze without flinching. "But that mirror is only a window of observation, not a contact portal. You may not attempt to wake the other Watanuki by using the mirror; any attempt to do so will be unsuccessful."

"A window of—is that what you were looking through when we came in?" Watanuki asked. "Were you looking at—" He looked down at the mirror in his hand, then up at Yuuko.

Her eyes went unfocused for a second, as though she were looking at something very far away. "Yes, that window was another port of observation," she said quietly. "I was checking on those children, and…" Her gaze flickered over Doumeki and finally rested on Watanuki. "I was looking for something."

"Looking for what?" Doumeki asked.

The witch paused slightly before replying, "The way to awaken Watanuki from the dream world."

A powerful, heavy feeling swirled through Watanuki, so strong that it was painful—he recognized it as hope.

"Did…" He took a deep breath and let it out. "Did you find it?"

Yuuko regarded him with a mixture of pity and something almost like concern. "No," she said at last. "It is not my responsibility to find it, and so it is impossible for me to do so."

Watanuki felt a crushing sense of disappointment. He hadn't realized until just now how badly he'd needed Yuuko to have the answer for him, to explain the problem and its solution the way she always did. "I-I see," he whispered. Doumeki glanced at him, but said nothing. Watanuki tried to bury the disappointment, but didn't quite succeed, as it still felt as though a large hand had picked him up and suddenly let him go; the sensation of falling was unpleasant. He locked his trembling knees to keep them from giving out.

"It is for you to do."

He jolted at her words. "What?"

Yuuko looked at him, her eyes dark as blood. "It is for you," she repeated, "to find the way to awaken yourself from the dream, Watanuki. I cannot show you the way. I cannot grant your wish. Not this time."

"But how—"

"The answer lies inside you," she told him, and watched him struggle to find the words to say.

"Yuuko-san—I—this is—all this is—" _Starting to sound like a bad Star Wars fanfiction,_ he thought desperately. "What am I supposed to do?"

And suddenly, the mischievous Yuuko-san was back, grinning her secretive little grin, her eyes dancing at him.

"Can't tell you," she sang at him. "It's against the rules."

He blinked, completely mystified at the sudden switch from Dimension Witch to playful puppy. "But—I don't even—you didn't say—"

"Ah, ah, ah, Wa-ta-nu-ki!" she tutted at him, waving a finger in front of his face like a mother scolding her child. "You're not trying to cheat, are you?"

"I—what—but—_Yuuko-san!"_ He glared at her, his hands on his hips. "You're not making any sense at all!"

"Hurry, hurry, time's a-wasting," she trilled, shooing them towards the door.

"What—you're—but—_aaargh!"_ Giving up on getting any sensible answers, Watanuki stomped toward the door. "Fine. Fine. I'll figure it out. By myself, if I have to, with absolutely _no_ help from _any—"_

"I'm coming with you," Doumeki said, matching him stride from stride.

"WHO ASKED YOU TO?" bellowed Watanuki.

"Watanuki."

He blinked and turned to see Yuuko watching them with her serious face, the playful persona gone as if it had never been. "Ah…yes, Yuuko-san?"

"There really is very little time left." Her eyes were direct and intent on his. "Time grows short, and the evil grows strong."

"Evil?" He frowned. "You never mentioned anything about—"

"You do not have the luxury of regret," she said coolly. "Make no mistakes. Be careful. And…Watanuki?"

His brows lowered; he was still trying to decipher what she could mean by 'evil.' "Yes?"

Her gaze was serious and urgent, but then it softened, and she looked at him with something very akin to fondness. "Try to be honest with yourself, hmm?"

"Ah…right," he agreed, completely baffled.

"All right then," she nodded. "You may go."

"O-okay. Um. Thank you, Yuuko-san," stuttered Watanuki, bowing to her.

"Thank you," added Doumeki with a bow of his own. Yuuko smiled at them and made as if to turn away in dismissal.

"Yuuko-san!" Watanuki blurted before he could stop himself.

She paused, one brow raised expectantly.

"I know—I know you said I have to find the answer inside myself," he said in a rush, wanting to say the words right and yet unsure of how to word them. "And I know you can't tell me anything, not really. It's just—I don't—what am I supposed to _do?"_ he finished helplessly.

Perhaps it was the utter desperation in his voice, or perhaps the emotion in her eyes really _was _fondness. Whatever the reason, Yuuko tilted her head and gave him that soft smile again.

"Dream, child," she said gently. "Don't waste your chance."

And the world went white.

--

--

A/N: Hmm. Not as much 104 in this chapter. Not even really a lot of Dou-Wata squabbling. It's really just supposed to be the catalyst for the real plotline. So starting next chapter, we get into the heart and soul of the story. Hope I didn't disappoint anyone. Thanks for all your kind and encouraging comments; you're all wonderful! D Oh, and the excerpt from "The Spider and the Fly" is just meant to convey a sense of foreboding. Yuuko's not really trying to trap Watanuki in her web.

Wata: THAT IS UTTER CRAP. DO YOU _SEE_ THE WAY SHE TREATS ME?

Yuuko: Ohohohoho…Watanuki's such a tasty little treat!

Maru/Moro: A tasty treat! Wata-nii-chan's a tasty treat!

Wata: WRONG FICVERSE! AND YOU—STOP BEING EVIL AND COY!

Yuuko: X3 Can't! It's the whole basis of my character!

Wata: headdesk


	4. the fox and the fortune

_Once upon a time,_

_I dreamt I was a butterfly,_

_fluttering hither and thither,_

_to all intents and purposes_

_a butterfly._

_I was conscious only of following my fancies_

_as a butterfly,_

_and was unconscious_

_of my individuality_

_as a man._

_Suddenly, I awoke,_

_and there I lay,_

_myself again._

_Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly,_

_or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man._

-Chuang Tzu

"I never asked you to come along, you know."

They were back in the white empty space, and so far this time Kimihiro was refusing to budge an inch. He was planted firmly in place, arms crossed and a scowl on his face, glaring daggers at Doumeki, who was looking around at the emptiness with boredom showing clearly on his face, which, Doumeki had to admit to himself, was probably what had prompted Kimihiro's growled comment.

"You didn't have to." Doumeki spared him a glance that said, _You idiot_, more eloquently than words could have done.

Kimihiro gnashed his teeth. "_You_ didn't have to come along."

"Wanted to." The archer went back to studying the vastness with every evidence of dismissing Kimihiro.

"MAYBE I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO!" thundered the shorter boy.

"Never do." Doumeki stuck a finger in the ear closest to Kimihiro's mouth in a well-practiced preemptive strike.

It was not in vain.

"THEN WHY ARE YOU HERE?" Really, it was almost fascinating watching his boy explode time after time. It never lost its entertainment value.

Doumeki took his finger from his ear and gave Kimihiro his patented I-was-right-you-_are_-an-idiot look. "Because _you_ are."

It was also amusing to see the utter confusion (and the subsequent rage because of the confusion) turn Kimihiro's face that reddish-purple-pink color, which probably wasn't included naturally on a light spectrum.

"Well—you—I—that is _not_ a good reason at all!"

"Good enough for me," said Doumeki simply, which he felt settled the matter unquestionably.

Obviously Kimihiro disagreed, but was unable to decide how or at what volume to reply. Doumeki deliberately changed the subject in an attempt to preserve his hearing. "So Yuuko wants you to look inside yourself."

That—the reference to why they were here in the first place—deflated the other boy like no placatory words could. "Yeah," he said wearily. "But of course she won't explain how to do that."

"Meditation."

Kimihiro blinked at him. "What?"

"Usually you meditate to look inside yourself. Deep concentration," explained Doumeki. "Inner serenity. Clear thoughts."

His boy watched him suspiciously. "You know how to do that?"

"Yeah. I do it every day at the shrine."

"You do?"

Doumeki sighed at Kimihiro's disbelief. "Buddhist teachings, remember?" At his boy's blank look, he tried to find a way to explain it. "Your goal is to awaken yourself, right? Well, the ultimate goal of Buddhism is nirvana—that's Sanskrit for enlightenment, or awakening. I'm probably the best person to teach you how to 'look inside yourself.'" He didn't mention that Buddhism centered around the idea of suffering, and multiple rebirths into lives filled with some form of suffering or another until one reached nirvana; he didn't think Kimihiro would want to hear it right now.

The shorter boy adjusted his glasses on his nose and looked thoughtfully into the distance. Doumeki watched him process the words and thought, _It's probably stupid to want to hug him. It's probably worse to wish he'd let me._

"Okay," said Kimihiro decisively. "We'll try it your way."

"We?" said Doumeki before he could stop himself, surprised at being automatically included in his boy's plans.

Kimihiro glared at him. "Well, you _did_ say you know how. It's better than standing here staring at your non-expressive face the whole time." He looked defiant. "And you said you're here of your own choice. You may as well be of _some_ use."

Doumeki stared at him. Apparently he stared for such a long time that it made Kimihiro uncomfortable. Faint pink began to tinge his cheeks again. _"What?"_

"Shut up a second," Doumeki ordered him. "I'm remembering."

"DID YOU JUST—? YOU DID _NOT_ JUST TELL ME TO—"Apparently the thought was too much for him to handle; Kimihiro closed his eyes and breathed in deeply to calm himself down. "Remembering _what_?" he ground out.

"This."

"This _what?"_

"The first time you've ever asked me for help." Doumeki's eyes flicked over Kimihiro's face; his boy's jaw had dropped and his eyes were wide.

"I—I did not—"

"Okay," Doumeki interrupted. "Let's get started." He lowered himself to the ground and settled himself comfortably. Looking up, he saw Kimihiro still frozen in place, indignation and denial distorting his pale features. "Well?"

It seemed like the shock of that particular truth had muddled Kimihiro's mind somewhat; he sank clumsily to his knees still frowning at Doumeki, who figured as long as it kept his boy quiet and amenable, it wasn't so bad a deal.

"Regulate your breathing," he instructed quietly. Kimihiro blinked, startled from his brooding resentment, and drew in a breath, probably to express his irritation at being ordered around. "No, that's wrong. Breathe."

"I _am _breathing,"grumbled Kimihiro.

"No talking," Doumeki remonstrated. "You're doing it wrong. Too hard, too fast. You have to slow down. Slower. Deeper." He blinked when Kimihiro's eyes flew open and glared at him. "What?"

"Subtext," snapped Kimihiro. "I realize that you are an abnormal specimen of the human race, but you should really learn to pay attention to the _words _coming out of your _mouth. _Or people will get Strange Ideas."

"I'll work on it," said Doumeki shortly. "In the meantime, _you _work on breathing correctly. You're the one who needs help, after all." His boy huffed out an annoyed breath. "No, wrong again."

"I _know_ that!" But Kimihiro subsided, and after a few moments, began to pace his breaths.

Doumeki observed him for a minute. "That's it," he approved, as Kimihiro followed his direction. "The point is to be calm. Tranquil. At peace." He watched as Kimihiro's eyes fluttered closed, as his boy's chest rose and fell evenly, those lips parted slightly. He felt a long, liquid pull in his gut—_Gods, oh gods, he's beautiful—_and closed his own eyes. This was _not_ proper meditative behavior, damn it.

Slowly he led Kimihiro through the process of reaching into his mind. His boy followed each direction without complaint, and proved, to Doumeki's complete surprise, to be quite adept at it.

Huh. Who knew the loudmouth could actually shut up and be still instead of flailing around like a wet kitten?

Cautiously, Doumeki opened one eye to view his 'student' and check his progress, and nearly smiled. Kimihiro had relaxed so much that he was almost asleep. The archer had never seen him this way; so comfortable with himself and content with the world. It was as if he was lost in a dream.

The thought was a splash of cold water. He'd forgotten for a moment. Kimihiro _was_ lost in a dream, lost and unable to find a way back, and it was Doumeki's job to find him and bring him back, as it always was. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Wake up," he murmured, as much to get rid of the foreboding feeling as to gently rouse Kimihiro from his light doze. His boy's eyes blinked open sleepily.

"Doumeki? Did I do it right?"

_Shit. Not helping._ Kimihiro's voice was soft and fuzzy, and hearing his own name spoken in such a tone sent that almost giddy feeling spinning through Doumeki again. He found it ironic that his boy would complain about subtext when his own words could be…misconstrued. Then again, if he pointed it out, Kimihiro would probably have a thrombosis.

"That was fine," he said; his voice sounded harsher than he'd intended it to, due to the fact that it had deepened an octave. "Now concentrate. Think about what Yuuko-san told you. She said you need to look inside yourself. That means there's something inside yourself that's very important for you to see or realize."

"There is?" Kimihiro was still muzzy from his impromptu nap; he blinked once, twice, owlishly.

_Shitfuckdamn. Stop looking so damn irresistible! _

"Yuuko-san wouldn't have given you that much of a clue unless it was leading you in the right direction." He hoped his boy wouldn't notice the odd, husky quality of Doumeki's voice. "Now close your eyes. What is it? What is it that's so very important inside you?"

"Nothing," whispered his boy, and Doumeki's heart broke a little. "There's nothing inside me."

"There is," Doumeki retorted, to cover his worry. There was the faintest trace of despair on his boy's face, and he closed his eyes so that he didn't have to see it, so that his heart wouldn't hurt so much. "If Yuuko-san thinks it's there, it's there. Think. Breathe in. Out. In. What is inside you?"

_Many things,_ said an unfamiliar voice, and Doumeki's eyes snapped open in fury that he'd been caught off guard. _I really _can't_ take my eyes off him for a second,_ he had time to think, and then he blinked.

The pipefox—Mugetsu—was sitting beside the two of them in its large fox form, its many tails resting motionlessly around it, those dark slashing eyes fixed on Kimihiro.

His boy was staring at the giant fox with utter surprise written in his exquisite bi-colored eyes. "Mugetsu?" he said. "What are you doing here?" And then, slightly more shocked, "Did you just _talk?"_

In lieu of reply, the fox tilted it head to the side playfully, as if winking at Kimihiro. Doumeki lifted an eyebrow. Mugetsu wasn't fooling either of them with the innocent act—it didn't explain how the fox spirit had apparently appeared out of thin air.

"I mean," continued Kimihiro in tones of excitement, "I've never heard you speak before. I used to think you _couldn't_ talk."

_Of course I've spoken to you._

The fox dropped its coyness and rose to all four paws, padding softly to Kimihiro and tipping its long muzzle down to bring its eyes level with the boy's.

_I've told you many things, Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker._

"Dream—?"

_In particular one thing, many, many times._ Slowly Mugetsu lowered to a crouch, those long, lethal claws shifting as if digging into invisible soil for traction.

Doumeki's instincts shouted at him, _He's going to attack! Protect Kimihiro!_ He'd actually begun to spring to his feet when Mugetsu leaped—

—and tackled Kimihiro onto his back with a joyful yip, nuzzling against the boy's cheek, those many tails thrashing wildly in pure unadulterated pleasure.

"H-hey! M-M-Mugetsu! Stop—don't—that tick—ah ha ha—_Mugeeeeetsu—!"_

Doumeki sank back onto his heels with a resigned sigh. Of course. How had he forgotten? The fox _adored_ Kimihiro; Doumeki had no reason to think his boy was in any danger from the overaffectionate creature.

_Don't you hear me now?_ Mugetsu asked plaintively, burying its nose into Kimihiro's neck, and suddenly shifting into its tiny, snake-like form, racing over Kimihiro's body frantically, so fast it was merely a blur. _Are you listening, Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker? Do you hear what I'm telling you? _It shifted back to its large form and continued to cuddle Kimihiro as if he were a large, live teddy bear.

"Muget—"

_You're not listening to me._

"Get off—"

_I'm telling you—_

"Come on, Mugetsu—"

_I love you._

Doumeki tensed, suddenly, irrationally, completely furious. _No one _could say those words to his boy except _him._ He found his hands clenched into tight fists and forced himself to relax. He _was _being irrational, he told himself. The pipefox didn't mean it _that_ way, of course it didn't. _No one_ could say those words to Kimihiro and mean them in precisely the same way Doumeki did.

His boy went very still under the fox's insistent snuggling. "No," he said, "no, you can't—you don't—Mugetsu—"

_Why not? _Mugetsu licked contentedly along Kimihiro's chin, very much like a adoring puppy. _You're very easy to love._

"No, I'm not!"

_Yes you are._

_Yes,_ thought Doumeki, watching this display with strained calm and vast discomfiture. _You are, Kimihiro. The fox is right about that. _His eyes narrowed when the pipefox tried to stick its entire head down the neck of Kimihiro's shirt. _Even if it _doesn't_ need to be so…demonstrative about it._

Kimihiro was breathless with protests and helpless with giggles. "I—Mugetsu, stop—stop, what are you—no, don't—"

_Don't what, Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker?_ All of a sudden, Mugetsu disappeared from sight, then reappeared with a small flash of light, standing before Kimihiro with its tails hovering in the air as if sensing currents of electricity. _Don't touch you? Don't love you? Don't _say _I love you?_

Doumeki tensed all over again. The fox seemed a lot more hostile now than it had a moment ago, and the undertones of anger in its voice caused Doumeki to leap to his feet and start forward with the intention of shouldering the fox aside.

_No, Doumeki Shizuka Dreamwaker, _said Mugetsu's voice, and Doumeki found himself unwillingly frozen in midstep. The voice was quieter, calmer, and Mugetsu wasn't looking at him; its attention seemed completely centered on Kimihiro, who was staring wide-eyed up at it from his supine position. _Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker must hear these words. It is vital that he understand what I am trying to teach him, just as it was vital for him to understand what you were teaching him as well._

Doumeki began to suspect, from the fact that Kimihiro was not reacting at all to these words, that Mugetsu was speaking these words into _his_ mind only. _What _I _was teaching him? You mean the meditation?_ he asked silently.

_Yes. It was necessary for you, Doumeki Shizuka Dreamwaker, to teach Kimihiro the skills to center himself, to look inside his own being, in order to begin the journey toward awakening. No other could teach him as you have._

For about two seconds of his life, Doumeki was profoundly and inexplicably grateful that his grandfather had taught him fundamental Buddhist principles. Then again, his grandfather had never taught him a lesson that hadn't, in some form, at some point, come in handy for saving Kimihiro.

_Doumeki Shizuka Dreamwaker, this is also for you to hear and remember. _

With that simple admonishment, and Doumeki's sudden fierce attention, Mugetsu began to growl. It took everything inside Doumeki not to spring forward and hurl himself onto the pipefox, dragging it away from his boy. He still could not move, so he forced himself to relax and watch. He'd have to trust the fox spirit. For now.

_Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker. Answer my question._ Power emanated from the fox spirit, and Kimihiro gulped visibly, his eyes flashing past Mugetsu to find Doumeki's, nervous blue-and-gold meeting troubled amber. Doumeki would have given anything in that moment to be able to go to his boy, but he _could not move._

_Watanuki Kimihiro…_ The sudden absence of the strange title the fox had been using startled both Kimihiro and Doumeki; Kimihiro blinked rapidly in confusion. Mugetsu's voice gentled. _Why are you afraid of being loved?_

Doumeki's eyes went wide.

Kimihiro's mouth fell open, and he stared at Mugetsu with something like shock on his face. "I—" But he did not finish his sentence. Panic entered his expression.

_Even now, the question itself terrifies you, _Mugetsu noted quietly, and it began to growl again, but this time softer, a quiet rumble, like a distant summer storm. _I ask and you evade. I advance and you retreat. So it is with all who attempt to bestow affection upon you. You are skilled in the art of declining such generous and selfless offers._

"That's not true," said Kimihiro weakly. "I…I've—"

_It is difficult for you, _went on the fox, _to allow others to become close to you. You are _afraid_ to let anyone else become close to you. You are wary of anyone who expresses strong emotion for you. You keep those people away, holding them at what you deem is a safe distance._

Mugetsu's voice suddenly became deeper, more authoritative and more formal._ This is your flaw, Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker, _it intoned gravely, as if reciting a script._ Do you accept your flaw?_

"I—what?" Kimihiro had sat up, and was slowly shaking his head. "I don't understand."

_Acceptance is necessary for understanding. Do you accept your flaw?_

"My…flaw?"

His boy looked simply flabbergasted. Doumeki wanted to go to him, wanted to shield him, protect him, but knew from experience that such actions would only invite his boy's wrath. He realized with sudden clarity what the fox meant, when it said that Kimihiro did not allow anyone to come too close to him. Anyone except possibly Kunogi, and that spirit woman…

As if reading his thoughts, Kimihiro exclaimed, "But—but I like Himawari-chan! If she were to…to say she…" He blushed. "If she liked me as more than a friend, then I would definitely not push her away."

Doumeki took a slow, even breath, and let it out just as slowly, just as evenly, and forced himself to keep listening.

_How could you not, when you cannot even speak aloud the possibility of her admitting to loving you?_ Mugetsu asked wisely. _Answer this question, Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker: If Kunogi Himawari were to tell you today that she loves you, that she will spend the rest of her life loving you more than anyone else in the world, what would your reaction be?_

"Th-That's impossible!" cried Watanuki, scrambling to his feet, his cheeks fiery red. He didn't seem to notice his own change of mind on the issue; only moments before he'd been open to the idea of receiving Kunogi's love. "Himawari-chan is too good for someone like me! Even if she thinks of me as a friend—she wouldn't—she'd never—she—" And Kimihiro trailed off, staring at the pipefox as if he'd never seen it before.

Doumeki, watching the dawning comprehension and horror on his boy's face, felt his heart break a little more. He'd wondered, often, if Kimihiro ever _would_ come to this conclusion, see this truth. He'd even hoped so—on nights when he lay awake and ached for the chance to receive a genuine smile from his boy, just a _single_ _one_ out of the thousands his boy bestowed upon Kunogi—when he lay on his futon in the dark of his bedroom and imagined the brilliance of that smile, the radiance, the emotion behind it—when he eventually fell asleep dreaming about it, and more besides—when he woke up hating himself for propagating a hurtful hope, a painful wish, one that he wouldn't take to Yuuko even if it meant receiving all the loving smiles in the world from his boy.

He watched as Kimihiro finally, _finally_ admitted to himself the reality of his friendship with Kunogi, finally allowed his expectations of their relationship to shatter, allowed himself to maybe wake up, just a little bit. Just a little bit—but it was better than nothing.

The pipefox tilted its head to the side with something akin to sympathy. _You see? _it said after a moment. _Automatically your response is to deny vehemently that even the possibility of a relationship with Kunogi Himawari exists. Why is that, Watanuki Kimihiro? Why can't you get closer to her?_

Doumeki felt a wave of rage sweep over him. Why did the pipefox insist on pouring salt over an open wound? Why was it encouraging his boy to hope a useless hope? Kimihiro _couldn't_ get close to Kunogi, not even physically—her curse would surely kill his boy within days, if not hours. For that reason alone, disregarding his own love for Kimihiro and his respect for Kunogi's strength in dealing with her condition, Doumeki would never, never allow the girl to get close to his boy.

_A selfish desire,_ commented Mugetsu in his mind. _And yet at the same time selfless as well. You are an extraordinary being, Doumeki Shizuka Dreamwaker, and a good influence on the boy._

My _boy. _The thought passed through Doumeki's mind before he knew it. **My** _boy. Not Kunogi's. Not yours. _**Mine.**

_Indeed,_ thought Mugetsu in great tones of amusement. One or two of its tails twitched slightly: the vulpine equivalent of muffled laughter. Your_ boy. I beg your pardon._

Doumeki did not deign to reply.

Kimihiro was staring at the ground, his eyes shuttered, his face anguished. "I…" He swallowed hard. "I _don't like it_ when people get too close to me," he whispered. "It feels…wrong, somehow. Like they're…crowding me. Even if they're not touching me, even if they're just talking to me—sometimes, I feel like it's too much. Like they're…too close."

_And why is that?_ Mugetsu tilted its head the other way.

"Because…I'm…" Kimihiro closed his eyes in defeat. "I'm afraid." The word was said so softly, so hesitantly, that it seemed to slip from his lips and dance on the air. With the admission having escaped him at last, Doumeki saw that something had wilted inside his boy; some important part of him had worn out; and Doumeki's heart broke still further.

Mugetsu padded to Kimihiro, touching one of his hands with its nose as if offering a measure of comfort.

_Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker, _it said quietly. _Do you accept your flaw?_

Doumeki held his breath.

Kimihiro opened his eyes and looked down at Mugetsu. He lifted a hand slowly and placed it on the fox spirit's head, rubbing lightly as he would a family pet.

"I accept," he said wearily.

Mugetsu's entire form lit up with a blinding flash of light, then seemed to collapse in upon itself. Kimihiro's eyes went wide as the light began to surge and swirl like a vortex, then finally compressed into a small rectangular shape that blazed bright white for a moment, then darkened with color and floated down into Kimihiro's still outstretched hand.

Doumeki was moving toward his boy before he realized Mugetsu's binding spell had lifted. He reached Kimihiro's side and stood looking down with him at the item in his boy's hand.

It was a card, slightly longer than a normal playing card, with a stylized illustration of Mugetsu in its large form taking up the center, and its snakelike form curved around the top edge of the card. Two words were printed across the bottom of the card in English: THE FOX.

"F…FOX," read his boy slowly, sounding out the unfamiliar letters. "THE FOX? What is this?"

"A card," said Doumeki, reaching out to take the card from Kimihiro's hand. It was a testament to how emotionally exhausted his boy was when Kimihiro didn't try to stop him, or start screeching about how it wasn't polite to take things from people without asking their permission.

"A card?" repeated Kimihiro blankly. Another sign of his mental state: he was parroting Doumeki instead of snapping at him for pointing out the obvious. "But…I don't get it. Is that…is that Mugetsu?"

"Apparently." Doumeki studied the picture. The fox's narrow eyes seemed to twinkle at him knowingly. "Looks like him, anyway."

"But why would Mugetsu turn into a card?" his boy asked, frowning at the card in Doumeki's hand.

"No idea," he replied. Kimihiro was eyeing the picture on the card in consternation.

"Cards…cards…cards with English writing on them," he muttered. _"Why_ does this sound familiar?"

"Does it?"

"Yeah." Kimihiro adjusted his glasses with one hand, still frowning down at THE FOX. "Something about…a book? I can't remember…maybe…collecting them in a book."

"Why would you—" began Doumeki, but a large black mass of _something_ shot straight past him and barreled into Kimihiro's chest, knocking him flat on his back.

Hissing a curse, Doumeki rushed forward, card in hand, to protect his boy from this new arrival. Damn it, this was _twice _now he'd been caught off guard!

"PIN-PON! YOU ARE CORRECT, WATANUKI-SPELLED-APRIL-FIRST! HOORAY!"

Again, Doumeki stopped in his tracks and stared. Together, he and Kimihiro spoke.

"Mokona?"

"Manjuu?"

Indeed, the black ball of fur was bouncing up and down on Kimihiro's chest like his boy a trampoline, cheering happily, "YAY! YAY! WATANUKI-SPELLED-APRIL-FIRST ACCEPTED THE FIRST CARD! THIS CALLS FOR A CELEBRATION! WE NEED SAKÉ!"

Kimihiro was caught between bewilderment and irritation. "What? First card? What is that supposed to—and _why_," he demanded suddenly, looking very much like the Kimihiro Doumeki knew so well and loved so much, "do we need saké to celebrate…whatever it is? And _stop jumping on me, I'm not a springboard!"_

"But it's FUN!"trilled the happy-go-lucky little creature. Kimihiro caught it between his hands on its way down from a particularly high jump and shifted so that he was on his knees and resting on his heels.

"Mokona," he said severely. "STOP. JUMPING. ON. ME." After a moment, he added, "PLEASE."

With an agreeable chirp, the manjuu-looking thing stilled in Kimihiro's grip, but continued to sing-song at him, "Watanuki, Watanuki, did a good job on the first try! Whoo-hoo!"

Doumeki frowned at it. "Good job with what?"

Mokona let out a pleased little hum and replied gleefully, "Accepting the Card, of course! It didn't take as long Mokona thought it would, and now it's Mokona's turn!"

Kimihiro was staring at the thing, utterly lost. "Mokona," he said slowly, "what are you talking about?"

Mokona squirmed happily in his grip and, to all intents and purposes, seemed to be trying to engineer Kimihiro's hands to bounce it up and down again. "The Cards like being accepted," it told Watanuki. "Especially _those_ ones. It's always harder for them because of what they are, so when you accept them, they're really, really happy! Good job, Watanuki!"

Doumeki opened his mouth to demand a clearer explanation, but his boy suddenly exclaimed, "Cards!" At Doumeki's puzzled frown, he flushed slightly and clarified, "I remember now. I talked with Yuuko-san about it once. There was a wand in her storeroom—and she said it needed cards to be effective. I asked her about it again a while later, just some idle conversation while we were eating dinner. She said the wand was used in the capture of the cards, and in the release of their power."

Doumeki looked down at the card in his hand, then back up at Kimihiro.

His boy blinked, lost in thought. "There was something," he murmured, "about the owner of the wand and the cards being related in a way to some creep she knew a long time ago…"

Mokona nodded, chipper and cheerful. "That guy was a colleague of Yuuko's! They worked together on a _lot_ of projects, like those Cards, and on Maru and Moro, and on Cerberus and Yue, and Mokona and Mokona too, of course, and a lot of other stuff besides!"

Doumeki's eyebrows drew together. Who were Cerberus and Yue?

The manjuu was starting to wriggle in Kimihiro's hands again. "They spent a lot of time together, even when they weren't working, and she always fought with him over stuff. She said he did annoying stuff on purpose just so she'd yell at him, and he said she enjoyed yelling so much that he only wanted to provide her with a source of entertainment."

Doumeki thought the description sounded very familiar, and fought to hide a smirk.

Mokona went on, "She said he was a creep, and she complained a lot about him, but when he had to go away, she was quiet for a few days. Then, when he didn't come back—when he _couldn't_ come back—she drank thirteen bottles of saké in one night and didn't leave the shop for a long time."

Doumeki's urge to grin faded away completely. He looked at Kimihiro, who was blinking at Mokona in surprise, and looked away before his boy noticed his gaze.

"Yuuko-san did?" Watanuki said incredulously. "But—I thought she didn't like him! Why would she be so upset about someone she didn't even like?"

Mokona's smile fell away and it looked up at Kimihiro, its eyes hidden. "She…didn't like him," it said slowly, its voice solemn and quiet. "But she felt something else for him, something very strong, and it hurt her very much when she couldn't see him anymore, when he wasn't around for her to yell at and work on projects with. When she couldn't be with him every day."

Kimihiro's eyes were full of sympathy for his employer. "Poor Yuuko-san," he murmured. "She must have been very close to him after all, to miss him that much…" Doumeki stole another glance at him, and, even though he knew it was stupid, and painful, and useless, he _willed _his boy to see the parallel between himself and the witch.

The manjuu-bun seemed to perk up slightly. "Hey, Watanuki," it said, smiling a little, "did Yuuko ever tell you that you're a lot like she used to be? Back when she was younger? Before she was the Dimension Witch?"

Kimihiro gaped at Mokona, and Doumeki was a little taken aback himself. His boy—like the alcohol-swigging, provocatively dressed, eternally teasing, oftentimes unfathomable, and just plain _intimidating _Dimension Witch? Romantic entanglements aside, he couldn't see his boy in the woman's place.

Apparently, neither could Kimihiro. "No way," he gasped. "Me? Like Yuuko-san? But she's so…_weird."_ His eyes widened in horror and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

But Mokona was laughing, and bouncing around in Kimihiro's grip again. "You're so funny, Watanuki-written-as-April-first!" it giggled. "That's why Mokona is _this_ Card! This is part of what Mokona likes best about you! But _ooop,_ can't say anything else! You have to guess!"

Kimihiro blinked at it. "You're a card?" he said, confused. "But—I didn't know—"

Mokona made a buzzer sound and wiggled out of Kimihiro's hand to land lightly on the space of white directly before Kimihiro's knees. "Mokona hasn't asked the question yet, Watanuki!" It cleared its throat ceremonially. "The question is—"

Doumeki frowned.

Kimihiro blinked.

Mokona pointed a paw at Kimihiro.

"What…does Mokona like best about Watanuki?"

Doumeki blinked.

Kimihiro frowned.

Mokona beamed, extremely pleased with itself.

There was silence between the three of them for a moment.

"Um…Mokona?" Kimihiro looked hesitant. "How am I supposed to know what you like best about me? That's _your _opinion."

Mokona shook its head and smiled. "You have to _guess,_ Watanuki!"

Kimihiro sat back, looking perplexed. Doumeki broke in, "This seems a little too easy. The first card…" He glanced at Kimihiro and cursed himself silently for reminding his boy of the emotional turmoil the first card had wrought upon him.

Mokona looked slightly less hyper, and its smile was understanding. "It is a little easy," it admitted softly. "To make up for the fact that Watanuki very sad because of THE FOX Card, Mokona wanted to make Watanuki feel better." It looked up at Watanuki. "Because THE FOX was right. Mokona likes Watanuki very much."

Doumeki looked at Kimihiro too. His boy was staring down at Mokona with an unreadable expression on his face. To everyone's surprise, tears welled up in the swirling gold-and-blue, slipping down Kimihiro's cheeks.

"Thank you, Mokona," said Kimihiro, with a trembling smile. "It makes me very happy to hear that from you."

Mokona's smile was like sunshine, soft and bright and warm. "Why is Watanuki crying?"

"Because I'm happy," whispered Kimihiro. "Because I'm very glad that you like me."

The manjuu looked pleased. "Already Watanuki has accepted the flaw THE FOX showed him! You accepted that Mokona likes you!"

Kimihiro nodded. "I'm trying to change, just a little," he said. "Because the only way I can wake up from the dream is to change, a little by little, isn't it?"

Mokona nodded too and clapped its paws together. "Right!" It laughed. "Watanuki is doing all the things that Mokona likes best about Watanuki right now! It should be easy to guess!"

And then Doumeki knew, without even having to guess, what the manjuu was talking about, what it liked best about his boy. And he smiled a little, just a little, because he agreed completely.

His boy's lips made a moue of concentration. "I'm…crying?" he said doubtfully.

"That's part of it," agreed Mokona.

Kimihiro snorted. "It's nice to know that you like to see me cry, Mokona," he said mock-indignantly. Mokona only hummed at him. Kimihiro shook his head.

"Okay, what else am I doing right now? I'm…I'm…" He sighed heavily. "I'm sitting here talking to you about different things," he complained. "I'm not really _doing _anything!"

"No, no, you're right, Watanuki!" Mokona encouraged. "That's right! You're going in the right direction! You've named two things right!"

Kimihiro blinked. "I'm…talking with you and crying?" he said, puzzled.

Mokona made a little noise of dissatisfaction. "What is Watanuki with Mokona talking _about?_ What is he crying _about?"_ it asked pointedly.

Kimihiro paused, puzzled. "About…Yuuko-san?" he said slowly. "About…how she was sad when she couldn't see that person anymore? And I said, 'Poor Yuuko-san.' And I'm crying because you like me, I already told you that," he finished petulantly.

"PIN-PON! YOU GUESSED RIGHT! WATANUKI HAS DONE SO WELL TODAY!" It began to dance in circles around Kimihiro, singing a nonsensical song about April showers and GOOD GOOD JOB!

"Wait, wait," demanded Kimihiro, holding out both hands in a plea for Mokona to calm down. Doumeki was amused to note that the manjuu actually jumped over both arms as if they were hurdles before it actually came to a stop.

"Yes?" it said, its grin so massive it took up half its body space.

"You like me because I felt sorry for Yuuko-san feeling sad about that person? And because I _cried_ because you like me?"

Doumeki suppressed a grin. His boy looked so damn cute when he was confused. He'd look even cuter if he started flailing like he usually did.

"Yes!" said Mokona decisively. It laughed at Kimihiro's frustrated bafflement, then put a paw on his knee entreatingly.

"Watanuki, Mokona likes you because you are sensitive to other people's feelings," it said patiently. "When Watanuki hears that someone is sad, he wants to make them feel better. When he knows that someone is hurt, he wants to fix them up. When he sees that they need help, he not only _wants _to help, he tries his _best_ to help!" Mokona hopped up into Kimihiro's lap. "Watanuki felt bad because Yuuko was unhappy, and thought about how Yuuko must have felt. Watanuki also accepted Mokona's feelings because he knows THE FOX wanted to help him recognize his flaw."

Kimihiro stared.

Mokona smiled. "Watanuki is a very compassionate person," it said simply. "That is why Mokona likes you so much. That is your strength. Do you accept your strength, Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker?"

Both Doumeki and Kimihiro blinked at the title; it sounded odd, such a formal address coming from the jubilant and off-hand Mokona.

Kimihiro recovered first. "Well, yes, I suppose I do. If you say so. But I don't understand—"

And its body began to glow bright white.

"Wait!" Kimihiro shouted. "Wait, Mokona, I still don't—"

But the white light had flared, faded, and floated back down to his hand. Kimihiro now held a card in his hand similar to the one Doumeki still held. Wordlessly he held it out for Doumeki to look at.

It was the same long rectangle, but where the previous one featured Mugetsu, this one, of course, had a prominent picture of Mokona, seemingly caught in mid-leap, probably doing one of its crazy dances. The letters across the bottom this time were THE FORTUNE.

"FO…FOR…" Kimihiro sounded out.

"FORTUNE," said Doumeki. "It means fortune." He frowned down at THE FORTUNE. "Why fortune?" he muttered. "How is the manjuu is a symbol of fortune?"

To his surprise, his boy was smiling fondly down at the card. "Because Mokona always wishes other people good fortune," he said softly, tracing a finger around the happy figure. "It wants everyone around it to be happy."

"Huh." Doumeki looked down at THE FORTUNE, then held out THE FOX. Kimihiro took it and stared at the two cards side by side for a long time.

"Doumeki," he said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think that…that Himawari-chan and Yuuko-san and Mokona…and you and everyone else—do you think that they exist in the world where the real me is dreaming?"

Doumeki scowled at his boy.

"I already told you that _you are real,_" he told Kimihiro gruffly. "You shouldn't keep saying 'the real me' as if the person you are right at this moment doesn't exist."

"I—I know," Kimihiro argued, still looking down at the cards very intently. "But…in that world…the world that _isn't_ this dream…If I wake up there—"

Doumeki's stomach clenched.

"—do you think everyone exists there too?"

"Yes," said Doumeki firmly.

"And…and do you think that everyone knows each other? That we've all met in some way?"

"Of course."

Kimihiro nodded uncertainly. "O-of course." He bit his lip. "But—but what if we haven't? What if we don't know each other in that world?"

Doumeki studied his face for a moment.

"Then I'd find you," he said finally. "I wouldn't stop looking until I did." It was his job, after all—to find his boy, no matter where they were, no matter what was happening or who was trying to keep them apart. They were meant to find one another. It was hitsuzen.

Kimihiro stared at him, his jaw slightly agape. Then he flushed bright red.

"S-S-SUBTEXT!" he managed to squeak out. "And—and I wasn't talking about _just you and me,_ I meant _everyone! _You make it sound like—" He turned, if possible, even redder, and, with a card clutched in each hand, began to flail.

Doumeki smirked.

So damn cute.

.1.

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A/N: OH MY GOD THIS FUCKING THING IS MONSTROUS. IS **THIRTEEN AND A HALF PAGES LONG. AND TOOK FIFTEEN AND A HALF HOURS TO WRITE. DDDDD:**

I just…have no words. None at all. (stares)


	5. the luck and the ladies

"_I'd bet it all on a good run of bad luck_

_Seven come eleven and she could be mine_

_Luck be a lady and I'm gonna find love comin' on the bottom line…"_

from "Good Run of Bad Luck"

by Clint Black

"Faint heart never won fair lady."

from Disney's _Robin Hood_

Preliminary A/N: Oh, my God, I totally gave a shout-out to another favorite anime of mine in this chapter. See if you can spot it! (If you're as diehard a fan of the show as I am, it'll be fairly obvious. :D) Okay, let's roll!

.1.

.0.

.4.

Watanuki was being Difficult.

He was very much aware of this, as he was doing it deliberately, and was also aware of the fact that it was, despite the show of noninterest, annoying the hell out of Doumeki.

Briefly he wondered if it was childish to take such perverse pleasure in the role reversal. Deciding it probably was, he nevertheless basked in the feeling a little longer.

"You're being Difficult," said Doumeki tonelessly.

Watanuki declined to respond.

"On purpose," added Doumeki.

Watanuki permitted himself a very small, hidden smile of triumph.

"Saw that."

The smile became a scowl. _Nosy bastard. Thinks he knows everything. 'Favorite color,' my ass…_

"Why, again, are you sitting on the ground and refusing to get up?"

"Because," declared Watanuki authoritatively, "there is—no—point."

Doumeki waited, but Watanuki did not care to elaborate the point further. Finally, the archer gave in and sank to the ground beside Watanuki, who immediately shifted about six inches away, but more through force of habit than any real irritation. He was, after all, mentally and emotionally worn out, and deserved a small break.

"What has no point, and why?" said Doumeki conversationally. Well, as conversationally as one could sound with a permanent monotone.

"My walking around aimlessly," Watanuki grumbled. "We never _get_ anywhere that we can see, and I _still_ don't know what we're supposed to be doing in the first place.

Doumeki contemplated the nothingness around him with such intense concentration that Watanuki briefly wondered which of them was the one who habitually saw things no one else saw.

"It probably has something to do with those cards," said Doumeki at last.

Watanuki gave him a curious look. "Do you _like_ to state the obvious," he asked interestedly, "or is this you trying to generate meaningful conversation? Because as far as conversation goes, it was a valiant effort," he added, still in the same there-there-dear tone meant solely to annoy, "but in the meaningful department, you failed spectacularly."

Doumeki gave him a bored look.

"Now, if you wanted to say something that will both capture my attention and carry significant meaning, you could say something like, 'Watanuki-sama, I acknowledge that you are a superior being in comparison to one so lowly as myself,' or, 'Watanuki, I bet Kunogi thinks you are a superior being in comparison to one so lowly as myself,' or even—"

"I'm hungry."

Watanuki glowered at him. "You just don't grasp this whole 'interesting conversation' thing at all, do you? What are you, three? How can you think of your stomach at a time like this, when we're just _sitting _here wondering what to do next?"

The archer shrugged. "You're the one sitting and wondering. I'd prefer it if we were sitting under our tree having lunch."

Heaving a sigh of frustration, Watanuki flopped down onto his back, his eyes fluttering closed. "Me too," he grumbled. "But only because I miss Himawari-chan's company. Yours is so droll and stagnant, after all."

Doumeki gave a grunt that may have been a laugh and may have been…well…a grunt. "Sorry I'm such bad company," he said dryly.

"No you're not," Watanuki murmured, slightly amused despite himself. "You live to annoy me."

There was a pause. "That's my purpose in life," agreed Doumeki casually.

Watanuki hummed in agreement. "You're the most annoying thing _ever_," he informed the archer, half of his attention caught by the play of sunlight over his closed eyelids. "Even over the spirits and anything to do with Yuuko-san, even her outrageous demands and her crazy alcohol fetish. You're the _primary_ _source_ of aggravation." A slight breeze moved over him, and he shifted more comfortably on the grass.

_Wait a minute,_ his brain said sluggishly. _Sunlight?__ Grass? A breeze?_

Watanuki shot up into a sitting position so fast that his head spun. He stared straight up at the boughs of the tree under which he, Doumeki, and Himawari usually had their lunches.

"Doumeki," he said after a moment. "How long has the tree been there?"

Doumeki thought about it. "Since you said you were hungry too," he decided.

"And you just decided not to mention the fact that a tree sprouted out of nowhere?"

"It wasn't exactly a threat to your safety," Doumeki returned. "If it had been falling over and about to crush you beneath it, I'd have said something."

Watanuki gaped up at the tree, then sent a Look at Doumeki. "Reassuring," he said flatly. "It's so nice to know you'd give me a heads-up before I got flattened by a tree. Doumeki, you really are the number one irritant in my life."

There was a tinkling, bell-like giggle from somewhere above them. Watanuki and Doumeki looked up again.

Himawari was sitting in the branches of the tree where she quite obviously had not been a moment before. She was wearing a bright yellow yukata, reminiscent of Tanpopo's feathers, patterned with red-orange koi fish, long sleeves billowing in the breeze.

"Hi—Himawari-chan?" Watanuki stammered.

The girl giggled, using one sleeve of her yukata to stifle the sound. "Watanuki-kun said Doumeki-kun is his number one," she chirped. "That's so cute!"

Watanuki's brain ground to a halt, then leapt back into action with a shout of horror. Watanuki's, to be exact.

"N-n-n-no, Himawari-chan!" wailed the boy. "That's not—you don't under—it wasn't wha—_irritation!"_ The garbled mess of words and decibels ended with a high-pitched yelp. "I said he's my number one _irritation! _That's _completely_ different from—from—from what you're talking about!"

Himawari tilted her head to one side and studied the boy with twinkling green eyes. "Number one is number one," she said cryptically. "Watanuki-kun has to start somewhere! Nothing's ever easy."

Watanuki thought he heard Doumeki mumble, "Got that right," but ignored him in favor of earnestly pleading his case with Himawari.

"But—Himawari-chan, surely you know that my number one is—"

"Nothing," interrupted Himawari, with a sad smile, her eyes slightly less bright, "is ever easy, Watanuki-kun. Don't you know that by now?"

He blinked up at her, baffled. "Himawari-chan?"

She smiled. "You still don't understand, Watanuki-kun?"

And she dropped lightly to the ground—a distance of perhaps ten feet, but one she cleared with hardly a sound and certainly without any semblance of difficulty.

Watanuki did not register this fully; he rushed forward to take her by the shoulders. "Himawari-chan, are you all right?" he cried, his eyes flickering over her face for any signs of pain. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you? You shouldn't have jumped like that! You could have twisted your ankle! Or dislocated your kneecaps! Or ruptured a disc! Or bitten your tongue! Or—"

"And you," she returned evenly, without any trace of amusement, "should not have touched me at all, Watanuki."

He froze, his hands still on her shoulders, as much in shock at the lack of honorific as at the sudden seriousness of her demeanor and what she'd just said to him. Behind him, he could hear Doumeki inhale in alarm.

"Because," Himawari went on, her eyes on Watanuki's, "you now stand a good chance of getting hit by a car. Or cutting open your hand while cooking. Or of being attacked by a malevolent spirit. Or—" She began to walk forward. Watanuki's hand dropped from her shoulders like lead weights, and he retreated a step for every one she took toward him.

"Or you could disappear," she whispered, and there was an odd shadow in her eyes, in her face, a quality to her voice that Watanuki almost thought was fear, but couldn't exactly identify. "You could disappear from this dream world, Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker. Forever."

The title made him stop and stare at her. She too stopped, and returned his gaze without flinching.

"You're a card, too." He said it dully. Of course. He should have realized that by now.

"Very good." Himawari nodded. "And yes, you should have realized that right away. Just as you should have known better than to touch me, because your Himawari has that…condition. That is why you are, in this one instance, very lucky indeed. If I was the real Himawari, you might very well suffer all those things I said. But since I'm a Card, one who is represented best by Kunogi Himawari's unique…condition, you won't." One corner of her mouth twitched upward in a sympathetic half-smile. "Probably."

He said nothing in reply. Doumeki stepped forward and said, "Which card are you?"

She shook her head. "That is for Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker to decipher."

Watanuki blinked. "I don't know," he said automatically.

Himawari looked disappointed, an expression that made Watanuki feel as though he'd kicked a puppy. "You are not making an effort, Watanuki-kun," she said gently. "You are not trying. You are not _thinking._ That is why you did not place my identity at once. That is why you unthinkingly touched me, even with your past experiences of the consequences of such an action."

"I—but I was just worried about you!" Watanuki exclaimed. "I thought you got hurt—"

"And so you rushed forward with no thought to your own safety," Himawari finished. "You put someone else's safety above your own, as you do so very often, and got yourself into potentially serious danger." She gazed at him with that same sad, disappointed expression. "You don't think that your actions may cause trouble for people who care about you and don't want _you_ to be hurt."

"I—that's—I mean—" Watanuki floundered, and Doumeki sighed loudly.

"She's right," he said pointedly. "You do stupid things without thinking, mostly because you think it will help someone else, when really all it does, most of the time, is get you in trouble. Which means _I _have to pull you out of it," he added. "That's a pretty major issue, if you ask me."

"I—_nobody _asked you, you pain in the ass! Stop injecting your unwanted opinions into a perfectly good conversation!"

"_This _is a good conversation?" Doumeki echoed in disbelief.

"Yes," snapped Watanuki. "One in which the participants do _not_ rely on eyebrow movement and click languages to get their point across to one another!"

Himawari laughed suddenly. "Doumeki-kun and Watanuki-kun are really good friends!" she said, clapping her hands.

Doumeki and Watanuki blinked at her, both clearly startled at this abrupt mood swing.

"But it isn't just Doumeki-kun who likes Watanuki-kun," went on Himawari thoughtfully, putting a finger to her chin. "A lot of people do."

"They do?" Watanuki gaped, clearly racking his brain to think of even a single person who considered him 'a good friend.'

"They do?" Doumeki demanded at relatively the same second, and earned himself a glower from Watanuki.

"Yes, for some really odd reason, they do," snapped a familiar voice. "Which does _not _increase my confidence in the judgmental abilities of this species."

Doumeki and Watanuki looked up to see the distinctive figure of the Ame-Warashi floating down underneath her large umbrella, her flame-red hair a striking contrast to the green of the leaves on the tree—

Speaking of which, the umbrella caught on a protruding branch and knocked the Ame-Warashi off-center, causing her to windmill wildly and crash to the ground, shrieking a curse.

Watanuki hesitated, then timidly approached the woman sitting on the ground picking leaves out of her hair and muttering about 'damned _trees_ all the damned _time.._.'

"Um…are you all right?" he said, with the air of a man who was testing a landmine.

"Of course I'm all right, idiot." The Ame-Warashi glared up at him with the force of a category three hurricane. "Not _every_ girl who falls out of a tree is going to weep and wail and bemoan her fate and wish for some strong, handsome hero to sweep her up into his arms and carry her off to his castle to pamper her and pander to her every whim. What _is _it with you men and deciding that women are the weakest, frailest creatures on the planet, when in actuality it's the entire damn human race that's practically deaf, dumb, blind, and stupid?" she demanded.

Watanuki blinked, still stuck back at the image of the Ame-Warashi bemoaning her fate and being carried off by a nameless hero who, in his head, greatly resembled Doumeki, only with longer hair and a smile. He shuddered and pushed the image away. "Ah…"

"Ame-chan! Please don't be rude to Watanuki-san! He was only trying to help!" The Zashiki-Warashi, cheeks noticeably pink, rushed to her friend's side, tripped on her long red-and-white-checked yukata, and fell to her knees over the Ame-Warashi's sprawled form. They both let out a 'whoof' of surprise and began to try and untangle themselves.

Doumeki, behind the open-mouthed and flummoxed Watanuki, asked, "What is it with people just appearing from out of nowhere in this dream?"

Watanuki, as mystified as Doumeki, shook his head.

The Ame-Warashi snorted. "It's _your_ dream, you dunderhead. _You_ really _ought _to know, don't you think?"

Watanuki swallowed at the mention of 'dream.' "I—that is…" He pressed his lips together and decided to change the subject. "You're not hurt, are you, Ame-Warashi-san? Or you, Zashiki-Warashi-san?" he added politely to the other girl, whose face went completely scarlet at his inquiry. "You both fell pretty hard there." The Zashiki-Warashi, if possible, went redder at the reminder of her clumsiness.

"I—oh, no, that's—I mean, um…" She took a carefully measured breath. "No, I'm fine, W-Watanuki-san," she whispered.

"I'm glad." His smile was genuine. "It wouldn't be good if you got hurt."

She didn't answer, but only smiled at him shyly.

The Ame-Warashi eyed her with plain distaste. "You have such odd taste," she complained.

As the Zashiki-Warashi became yet another shade of red darker, Watanuki turned to the Ame-Warashi and held out a hand. "You're sure you're not hurt?" he asked, concern coloring his tone.

She stared at him, at his extended hand, then back at him. "You're either really stupid," she said in lieu of answering his question, "or you're just that dense."

"He's dense," said Doumeki, to Watanuki's fury.

"He's dense," agreed Himawari brightly, to Watanuki's dismay.

"Hi-Himawa—" he began, but the Ame-Warashi had leapt to her feet with a snarl of disgust.

"_And you!"_ she shouted, pointing a finger at Himawari, apparently having been reminded of the other girl's presence. "You—this—this utterly unfair! What are _you_ doing here?"

Himawari didn't seem to mind being pointed or shouted at. In fact, her smile grew wider. Pure impish delight radiated from her. "Well, hello, Ame-Warashi-san," she trilled. "It's so _lovely _to see you on this _nice_, _sunny_ _day_!"

Watanuki blinked. Surely his darling Himawari-chan couldn't be intentionally _baiting_ the Ame-Warashi, who made well known her dislike for anything that wasn't rainy or the Zashiki-Warashi.

The Ame-Warashi's nostrils flared. "Why you annoying pain in the—"

"Don't you think it's perfectly _wonderful_ that we're both here to help Watanuki-kun?" interrupted Himawari blithely, as if the Ame-Warashi wasn't even speaking.

Watanuki paled. She _was—_she was _definitely_ trying to get a rise out of the Ame-Warashi, who also made well known her dislike for Watanuki in particular.

"I just think it's ever so kind of you," gushed Himawari. "And you as well, of course, Zashiki-Warashi-san," she added to the nervous girl, who jolted at being addressed.

"Oh, um, yes, th-thank you, Himawari-san," stuttered the Zashiki-Warashi.

"Don't thank her!" ordered the Ame-Warashi. "Don't even _talk_ to her, Shi-chan. It's bad for you." She placed herself directly in front of the distraught Zashiki-Warashi in a move that reminded Watanuki of the way Doumeki would block Watanuki from spiritual attacks with his own body.

Himawari tilted her head. "Why such hostility, Ame-Warashi-san?" she asked curiously—or what would have been 'curiously' if it hadn't reeked of 'totally unconvincingly.'

"Don't talk to me, either," the Ame-Warashi told her, and turned her face away. Then, apparently unable to help herself, she growled, "Why aren't you sealed yet?"

"Watanuki-kun hasn't accepted his flaw yet," Himawari said sweetly. "And he needs to guess which flaw is represented by my Card before he can _accept_ his flaw."

The Ame-Warashi's ire redirected once again to Watanuki, who cringed under her blazing glare. "You _are_ stupid!" she shot at him. "You're really stupid! I knew it! How can you _not_ realize which flaw she represents?" Before he'd registered her movement, she'd smacked him over the head with her umbrella.

Reeling, Watanuki stumbled backward into Doumeki's chest, hands clasped over the bump on his crown. "S-sorry," he moaned.

Doumeki put a hand on his shoulder to steady him and looked at the furious Ame-Warashi.

"Don't hit him again."

It was said very low, very solemn, and with a hint of warning. Watanuki glanced up at the archer and thought for a moment he saw something dark move into the gold of his eyes, but when Doumeki looked down at him it was gone, and Watanuki decided the pain in his skull was messing with his brainwaves or something.

The Ame-Warashi opened her mouth as if to argue with Doumeki, but the Zashiki-Warashi caught her by the elbow and gave her a pleading look.

"Ame-chan, _please._"

The Ame-Warashi ground her teeth together. "Fine, I won't," she hissed.

Himawari frowned at the Ame-Warashi. "That was extremely rude of you, Ame-Warashi-san," she said severely. "You could have really injured Watanuki-kun."

"Oh please," mumbled the Ame-Warashi. "It probably jump-started his long-disused common sense. Besides, any _other_ person with brain damage can figure out what flaw you are. It's not as if it's any different in _that_ dream than it is from this one. You're just as bad an influence there as you are here."

"Well, that's not very nice," Himawari said in tones of deepest sadness that did nothing to disguise the amusement sparkling in her eyes. "After all, I'm only trying to be civil."

"You mean _evil,"_ snapped the Ame-Warashi.

"Ame-chan!" gasped the Zashiki-Warashi in horror.

"Well, she is!" protested the Ame-Warashi. "Look at that _smile!_ You can tell! She's _deviously cunning,_ Shi-chan. She may _look_ like a sweet and harmless little sunflower, but she's…she's _a Venus flytrap!"_

"Now, now," laughed Himawari, who looked to be enjoying herself immensely. "That's not a very fair judgment at all, Ame-Warashi-san. I'm not a trap of any sort."

"You are too," retorted the Ame-Warashi. "You look all innocent and pretty and harmless, but if anyone gets too close to you, _snap!_" She snapped her fingers. "That's _their _day ruined!"

Watanuki went very still. Doumeki's hand on his shoulder suddenly felt like an unbearably heavy burden, so he shrugged it off and stepped away from the archer, the pain in his head forgotten as he stared very hard at Himawari.

The hundred tales of horror. The monkey's paw. The Angel-san. The window.

_That girl is _not _your goddess of luck,_ Yuuko's voice whispered in his mind.

"Oh," he said very quietly.

Himawari looked at him and seemed to understand his thought process, because her smile grew sober and humorless.

"I'd almost forgotten," she said softly. "You still haven't accepted your flaw."

Watanuki's brow furrowed. "Earlier, I couldn't understand why someone as wonderful as Himawari-chan would represent a flaw," he said slowly.

The Ame-Warashi snorted and mumbled something that sounded like, "'Cause she's _evil,"_ which made the Zashiki-Warashi hold a finger to her lips.

Watanuki went on as if speaking to himself, "And just now, hearing Himawari-chan and Ame-Warashi-san arguing with each other, made me think about what Himawari-chan said earlier; that I don't think about my words and actions, and how they might cause trouble for other people even if I'm trying to help. And—well—Himawari-chan is right." He looked at her with a helpless shrug. "I don't always think about what I'm doing before I rush into action, and that sometimes causes more problems than it solves. And—and…"

Himawari smiled at him. "Watanuki-kun invites trouble wherever he goes," she said affectionately. "It's part of what makes Watanuki-kun so charming."

The Ame-Warashi snorted again.

Watanuki blinked and blushed. "Himawari-chan thinks I'm charming?" he said in amazement.

Himawari laughed. "Sure she does," she said. "If she didn't, then I wouldn't, either."

Watanuki smiled a little. "So…I need to start thinking about my words and actions, and how they affect other people," he stated.

Himawari beamed at him. "That is your flaw," she agreed. "Do you accept your flaw, Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker?"

With a tiny sigh, Watanuki nodded. "I accept," he said quietly.

When the bright flash of light receded and reformed into the familiar rectangular shape, Watanuki looked at the card in his hand for a moment. It depicted a Himawari half-hidden in shadow, with an enigmatic smile on her face. Across the bottom of the card was printed THE LUCK.

_My goddess of luck,_ thought Watanuki humorlessly, and closed his eyes.

A loud exhalation of relief startled Watanuki from his thoughts. The Ame-Warashi was glaring at the card in Watanuki's hand with something akin to triumph, if a glare could be classified as triumphant.

"Well, thank goodness and good riddance," she proclaimed, hands on her hips. "That's _that _problem taken care of."

Watanuki turned to her, frowning, idly handing THE LUCK to Doumeki for inspection. "So, if Himawari-chan was the flaw," he said slowly, "does that mean that you…"

"Yes," snapped the Ame-Warashi, "We're supposed to represent your _good_ point, which is almost utterly impossible since you don't _have _any good points as far as I'm concerned—"

"That's not true," protested the Zashiki-Warashi, grasping the Ame-Warashi's elbow again. "Watanuki-san is very kind and very polite and very han—" She cut herself off, turned vivid scarlet again, and hid her face in the Ame-Warashi's sleeve.

The Ame-Warashi looked absolutely put-upon. She rolled her eyes and then fixed that stern gaze on Watanuki.

"All right, all right," she groused. "She's right. You _are _extremely polite—which is _also_ irritating, but technically it's a good point. Technically. Sort of." She seemed extremely reluctant to admit to Watanuki's positive side.

Watanuki felt a faint flush rise in his cheeks. "Well, that's really because…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Before my mother died," he said quietly, staring at the grass beneath the Ame-Warashi's feet, "she told me that it's important to always be polite to strangers, because you never know who or what the stranger could be, and if they could turn out to be helpful when you really need it the most." He lifted a shoulder and ducked his head under both of the women's almost disbelieving gazes.

"What a wonderful lady your mother must have been," murmured the Zashiki-Warashi, and Watanuki beamed.

"Yes," he said simply. "She was."

The Ame-Warashi studied him with a scowl.

"Well," she said finally, "you certainly paid attention to _that _lesson. You're polite almost to a fault—but of course, I'm supposed to be extolling your virtues," she added sarcastically. "Anyway, I guess it's a good thing you listened to her. You've certainly made a good impression on a lot of people by being polite to them, even when you're not sure they're _not_ foes."

Watanuki's brow drew together. "I have?"

"Just about half of the spirit world," said the Ame-Warashi in a falsely sweet tone.

How could he reply to _that _politely? "Oh," said Watanuki again.

"So," said the Ame-Warashi, suddenly businesslike, as if the words pained her, "you're a very polite person and this is why _other_ people find you…likable." She emphasized the word 'other' as if to make it particularly clear that politeness did not win her over.

"Okay," said Watanuki helplessly.

The Ame-Warashi sneered at him. "But I _still_ don't like you," she said pointedly, and grabbed the Zashiki-Warashi's hand.

"Right." Watanuki glanced at Doumeki, who looked back at him as expressionlessly as ever.

"So. Thisisyourstrengthdoyouacceptyourstrengthwatanukikimihirodreamwalker?" said the Ame-Warashi in a single breath, as if eager to get the formality over with.

"Yes," said Watanuki, who honestly could not see any other way for this to end well.

With a final glare from the Ame-Warashi, and a hesitant wave from the Zashiki-Warashi, the two women dissolved into beings of light.

_Good luck, Watanuki-san_, said the Zashiki-Warashi's voice in his head before the card fluttered down into his hand; it depicted the two sprites side by side, the Ame-Warashi's hair like a bright slash of flame, the Zashiki-Warashi wearing her usual pensive expression. THE LADIES was the caption across the bottom of the card.

Doumeki came over to look at it and handed Watanuki THE LUCK as well.

"So." Doumeki looked intently at the cards—no, Watanuki corrected himself in his mind. Not cards, but Cards—they referred to themselves as Cards; he could _hear_ the emphasis in the word—and giving Watanuki a skeptical look. "THE LUCK and THE LADIES?"

Watanuki did _not_ like that look. "Yeah?" he sniffed. "So?"

"So it means 'the luck' and 'the ladies.'"

"I _know_ that, you overbearing ape. You're not the _only _one who knows English. So what?"

"So." Doumeki smirked at him. "There must be some mistake. You don't _have_ any luck with the ladies."

For a second Watanuki could only gape at him. The jerk had _not_ just—but according to that smirk, he obviously _had. _Could he possibly be that _stupid? _Or just simply that _rude?_

"Why, you smug, insulting jackass," he snarled.

Doumeki merely shrugged a shoulder. "It's the truth," he said shortly. "Kunogi. The Ame-Warashi. The Zashiki-Warashi—"

"She's nice to me!" protested Watanuki.

"—who ended up being the reason you got into trouble with that spider demon. Who was also a woman. Those twins. The corpse in the window. Tsuyori's mother. That spirit woman. Pretty much any woman who comes to Yuuko-san's shop. _Yuuko-san._" He wasn't even bothering to tick off the list on his fingers—as he'd memorized the identities of any and every woman Watanuki had ever come into contact with, and denounced every single one as a bad experience in some way for the shorter boy.

"I—" Watanuki could only stare at him in consternation. "How—That's not—You're exaggerating so badly that I'm surprised your mouth doesn't fall off!" he managed to get out, pointing with a shaking finger at the archer's nonplussed expression.

"Stick with the male half of the population," Doumeki advised. Then he scowled. "On second thought, never mind. That's a bad idea too."

"Why?" demanded Watanuki.

Doumeki lifted an eyebrow. "Men are horny bastards," he said simply.

Watanuki's mouth fell open. _"And what does that have to do with ME?"_ he roared. Doumeki stuck a finger in his ear and didn't answer.

Watanuki seethed. "So if every woman I meet is bad luck, and if I can't go near _men_ either," he said sarcastically, "then whom, Oh All-Seeing Assface, do you propose I spend my time with?"

Doumeki appeared to actually think about it seriously. "You don't like animals," he said thoughtfully.

Watanuki snorted in derision. "Animals make messes. And they smell. And they're noisy."

Doumeki nodded absently. "Don't suppose you've got a cactus fetish?"

"A—a _what?"_ Maybe Doumeki had finally lost his mind, Watanuki thought in wonder, staring at the other boy, who stilled appeared to be immersed in thought.

The archer waved a hand in dismissal. "Never mind. Some tennis player I heard the team discussing a while back. Any sentimental attachment to plant life in general?"

Now thoroughly lost, Watanuki shook his head and said blankly, "Except for cooking."

Doumeki grunted acknowledgment. "Well, that settles it," he said, looking at Watanuki. "You're stuck with me."

Elsewhere in the universe, Kunogi Himawari felt the inexplicable urge to grin manically, and couldn't figure out why.

Watanuki seemed to swell to about twice his actual size, which wasn't really all that much bigger. "YOU POMPOUS, ARROGANT PILE OF SUBSTANDARD BRAIN MATTER AND WASTED CELLULAR ACTIVITY! _Where in the hell do you come up with this idiotic nonsense?_ _There's absolutely no logic inherent in your argument whatsoever! _And aren't you a guy?" he hissed at the archer.

"Last time I checked," replied Doumeki deadpan.

"So how in the hell do you logically explain that I'm supposed to stay away from men, and yet I have to hang around with _you?"_ Watanuki glowered at him. Then suddenly he smirked. "Heh. You do realize that you're classifying _yourself_ as a horny bastard, don't you?" Then he frowned. Somehow that didn't come out as triumphantly as it had sounded in his head.

Doumeki's brow winged up. "I'm not a bastard," he said.

Implying that he _was_…the _other_ thing. A small part of Watanuki's brain died a quiet, miserably confused death.

"Yes," he gasped out, trying like hell to resurrect that part; damn it, he needed _all _his brain just to be able to _handle_ Doumeki, let alone comprehend him or exchange insults with him. "Yes, you are. Definitely a bastard. Definitely."

"My parents have been happily married since two years before I was born," Doumeki informed him.

Watanuki felt his eyes narrow.

"And besides," Doumeki went on mercilessly, "_you're _just stalling to avoid admitting that I'm right and you don't have any luck with women."

"NO I'M NOT!" Watanuki bellowed. "AND NO YOU'RE NOT! AND YES I DO!"

"No, you don't." Doumeki looked infuriatingly calm. "Which explains why you yell all the time. You've got all this pent-up energy because you don't get any action."

Watanuki felt as if he was losing this battle horribly without any understanding of what the hell was going on. He raised his voice to make up for the score difference.

"I GET PLENTY OF ACTION, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!"

Doumeki eyed him.

"The pipefox doesn't count," he informed Watanuki disdainfully.

Watanuki made a sound that went something like "ASDFJKLQZXCERTBVMYPNG" and began to flail in vigorous denial.

He didn't understand the sudden amused and appreciative smile on Doumeki's face, and flailed harder.


	6. the maid and the mother

_After all,_

_we're only human—_

_always fighting what we're feeling,_

_hurting 'stead of healing._

_After all,_

_we're only human…_

_Is there any other reason why we stay instead of leaving,_

_after all?_

-from "Human"

by Jon McLaughlin

* * *

"I CANNOT BELIEVE THE SHEER AUDACITY OF THE WORLD, MAKING IT SO THAT I AM ALWAYS AND FOREVER STUCK WITH _YOU_ INSTEAD OF MY DEAR HIMAWARI-CHAN."

_Mmm, I think that's called a _clue_, kid._

"Quit whining," was what I actually said to him, and had the pleasure of watching him detonate like a two-legged landmine.

My boy was nothing if not true to character.

"I AM NOT WHINING, I AM EXTOLLING THE INJUSTICE OF FATE. YOU ARE INTERRUPTING MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT. SHUT UP."

"Extol later," I told him tiredly. "We need to figure out what to do about these Cards."

Hmm. Interesting effect. He deflated instantly, and actually seemed lost for words. Definitely interesting.

"Well…" He floundered for a moment, then sat with a sigh beneath our tree. I hoped like hell he wasn't going to enact a repeat of last time and _stay there_ like some spoiled little child who'd gotten tired of walking around. I didn't think Kunogi was going to pop out of the tree again to get him going this time.

Speaking of which…

I looked up at the branches. "Why's our tree still here?"

He sighed heavily. "Subtext," he said pointedly. "How many times do I have to say this?"

I lifted a brow. "I didn't realize 'tree' was an innuendo," I mused. "Should I have said 'big plant' instead?"

"You said _our,_ you ass," he snapped. "As in _yours and mine._ It's not _our_ tree, it's _a _tree. It's _a _tree where we—meaning Himawari-chan and I, unfortunately accompanied by _your_ bothersome self—eat lunch. So don't say _our tree _like that," he instructed primly. "Say _the _tree. Otherwise it sounds…weird." He shuddered exaggeratedly to make his point.

I just looked at him.

"Okay. Why. Is." Our_. "The_ tree. Still here."

Kimihiro looked up at the tree's branches, apparently satisfied with my sarcastic acquiescence. "Beats me," he sighed, then flopped to his back on the grass. "It's probably some subconscious thing," he grumbled, his eyes fluttering closed. "Like me attaching some significance to the tree, or something."

I stared down at him, caught all at once by the image he made, sprawled beneath our tree, deceptively lazy, reluctantly languid. Then his words hit me, and I wanted to either hug him or throttle him, I wasn't sure which.

_How about because it's _our tree? _How's _that_ for significance?_ I wanted to tell him, but I held my tongue.

"Something," I agreed dryly.

He must have caught my tone, because he sat up and glowered at me. "Okay, then, genius, what do _you_ think?"

With a shrug, I sank to the ground beside him and ignored the way he immediately scooted about six inches away. "Let me see the Cards."

"Don't order me around." But he pulled them out of his pocket, along with, to my surprise, the mirror Yuuko had given him.

"Oh!" He blinked at it. "I forgot about this." He flipped it around in his hands and peered into the glass—then paled and averted his eyes.

Before he could stuff it back into his pocket, I plucked it out of his fingers by the dangling ribbon ("Hey! You—you _thief!_") and examined the image. The sleeping Kimihiro in the mirror didn't seem to have stirred. In fact…

I brought the mirror closer and felt my heart thud alarmingly.

The mirror Kimihiro didn't look to be breathing.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe either. _No. No. Please._

Then I saw the slight, nearly imperceptible rise and fall of his chest, and I shuddered with relief.

I looked up at my Kimihiro, who was watching me with an odd expression.

"What's with that look?" he asked me curiously. "You looked like you were going to be sick for a second."

"Nothing," I said brusquely. He frowned at me, but let it go, and simply held out a hand for the mirror. I slipped it into my pocket instead.

"Hey! Jerk, that's mine!"

"You can have it back later," I said dismissively. I wanted the mirror close to me; somehow, I felt, that would help the sleeping Kimihiro. Somehow.

My boy scowled at me, and opened his mouth to press the issue, but I nodded at the Cards to distract him.

"So what are we going to do now?"

He paused, once again cut off before he could start his ranting, and blinked at the Cards. He sat back, hands on his knees, and sighed.

"I don't know."

"Do we wait?"

"I don't know."

"If we wait for the next Cards to show up, it may take forever," I pointed out. "Can we _look_ for the Cards? Or summon them, or something?"

"I don't _know,_ Doumeki," he snapped.

_It's your dream,_ I wanted to retort, but he seemed touchy about that subject, so I studied the Cards silently.

THE FOX and THE FORTUNE. THE LUCK and THE LADIES. Kimihiro's strengths and flaws.

"If there's one Card for every strength and one for every flaw," I began.

"Evidence suggests," replied Kimihiro drolly.

"…Then we're going to be here for a while."

I was not surprised when Kimihiro flew into one of his hissy-fits.

"AND WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN, YOU ARROGANT CLOD?"

I frowned at him. "A concept like that is complex," I told him severely. "Human beings as a whole are a very complex race; the dichotomy of human nature means that every person has a naturally diverse personality. Flaws and strengths can possibly number in the hundreds."

He gaped at me. _"Hundreds?"_

I nodded. "Yeah. No two personalities are exactly the same, so each person could have hundreds of completely unique traits that are balanced pretty much equally between good and bad." I peered at him. "Maybe not_ you._ You've got a lot of flaws to balance, after all."

I'm not sure what he was yelling at me then; I had my fingers in my ears. When he had finished, he turned his back on me and pouted at the tree.

I rolled my eyes. Honestly, sometimes Kimihiro could be such a…

Was he _crying?_

My eyebrows drew together as I stared at the rigid lines of my boy's back. I definitely heard muffled sobbing.

Teasing him was one thing; making him cry—well, I certainly never intended _that_ to happen.

"Oi," I said hesitantly.

He whirled around to glare at me. "My name is _not 'Oi,'_ you ape."

There wasn't a single trace of a tear on his face. But I could still hear the crying.

I stared at him blankly. He glared back.

"WHAT. ARE. YOU. STARING. AT," he said slowly, through gritted teeth.

"You're not crying?"

His glare became instantly suspicious.

"If you're trying to make me cry, you can forget it. I'm not some weak little _baby."_

I raised an eyebrow.

"Crying doesn't automatically make you a weak little baby," I informed him.

He was going to argue—the set of his jaw and the twitching of his left eyebrow told me as much—but then the crying intensified, and he paused, stunned.

"Someone _is _crying."

"I told you," I said, somewhat vindicated. He waved a hand at me to hush, and got to his feet slowly as the sounds got a little bit quieter.

"It's coming from behind the tree," he said, puzzled.

I got to my feet too. My boy looked like he had every intention of following the sound, so I walked until I was between him and the tree. Better to be prepared.

He thumped a fist against my back. "What are you _doing?"_

"Following disembodied voices rarely ever spells out good things for you," I said.

He rolled his eyes, but didn't argue.

Together, with Kimihiro peeking over my shoulder, we walked around the tree.

And stared.

Instead of the endless whiteness that spanned every direction beyond the little patch of grass at the base of the tree on which we'd been sitting, the view in front of us was the park where we often came with Yuuko and the manjuu and Kunogi to celebrate on holidays and festivals.

And sitting on a bench, staring at the ground with her long hair trailing around her like decorative ribbons, was Tsuyuri Kohane.

My brow wrinkled in consternation. _This _was the next Card?

I could feel surprise emanating from Kimihiro.

"Kohane-chan!" he exclaimed, and dashed around me to approach the girl.

She looked up at the sound of his voice—and I winced internally to see the bruises and bandages on her face and neck.

Kimihiro inhaled sharply and dropped to his knees before her, reaching out a hand to gently stroke her forehead.

"Kohane-chan," he murmured, and I smiled inwardly at the soft, sweet tone he was using with her. "Are you in pain?"

Leave it to Kimihiro to ask the most important question first. Where most people would have said _Are you all right,_ even though it was completely obvious that she wasn't at all, Kimihiro brushed aside the inanities and got straight to the point.

Tsuyuri looked at him with those sad eyes—too sad for a child of her age. Only one of her eyes was visible; the other was covered by gauze and bandages. "A little," she admitted in a musical little whisper. "But mostly I feel fine, Kimihiro-kun."

I twitched a little. I'd forgotten; this girl was the only one who ever called my boy by his given name. Not for lack of wanting, I could argue, but I knew that he'd never accept the familiarity from me as easily as he did from her.

"Was this an accident?" Kimihiro asked. I could hear the sobbing in the air as if it were background music.

Tsuyuri hesitated, then shook her head. Then she winced at the movement, and one of her tiny hands fluttered upward as if to rub at her neck, but she dropped it quickly into her lap.

Neither Kimihiro nor I missed the action, or its meaning. Kimihiro rose and slid onto the bench beside the girl, gingerly putting an arm around her shoulders. When she stiffened just a little—not in pain, but in alarm—a fleeting look of pity and sorrow chased across Kimihiro's face before he schooled it into simple concern.

"Was this the same person who pushed you down the stairs?"

The girl simply looked at him.

In the background, the sound of crying became just a little louder, a little more pained and desperate, like a small child seeking comfort from the dark.

I felt a rush of fury at the girl's mother. What kind of parent could treat her own child this way? Not just ignorance and neglect, but abuse, too. The woman should have been locked up a long time ago, before the situation could escalate to this.

"Oh, Kohane-chan," murmured Kimihiro, sliding his other arm around the girl and pulling her close to him. "I'm so sorry you were hurt."

"It isn't Kimihiro-kun's fault," whispered Tsuyuri, but one of her hands drifted upward again to clutch at the back of his shirt.

"I'm still sorry," he whispered back.

I looked at them and felt my heart break a little. These two were so much alike—both virtually parentless, both blessed and cursed with the same talent, both misunderstood by mostly everyone around them, and both putting on such a strong front while desperately yearning for someone to simply hold them. Despite the age and gender difference, the two were really astonishingly similar; it was no wonder Kimihiro could connect to her so well.

I watched them holding each other and found myself approaching the bench without realizing it. I placed on hand on Kimihiro's shoulder and the other on Tsuyuri's head. Neither one protested the action.

"I'm sorry too," I said.

The sound of crying rose in volume until it became a wail, a heartbreaking accompaniment to the tableau we made. But neither Tsuyuri nor Kimihiro was making a sound. Looking down, I caught the flicker of despair crossing Tsuyuri's face at exactly the same moment the volume of the crying rose again.

I blinked and thought, _It's Tsuyuri's heart. Her heart is crying out so loudly, it's no wonder we can hear it, even if she's not shedding a tear._

I opened my mouth to share this revelation with Kimihiro, but Tsuyuri's eye caught mine, and I remembered the pipefox's warning. Kimihiro had to realize this stuff himself, or it wouldn't work. With a sigh, I nodded at her, and her gaze dropped again.

"Kohane-chan must be in a lot of pain," Kimihiro said softly, drawing back a little to glance over her features. His eyes lingered on the bandages. I had the feeling he was remembering when he himself had been covered in bandages not all that long ago.

The girl hesitated, then said, "It's not that bad. I know how to treat injuries—"

Kimihiro shook his head. "I don't mean physical pain."

Tsuyuri's eye—the one we could see—widened a little. "Kimihiro-kun?"

"I think," said my boy gently, "that your heart must be hurting very much." He smiled sadly. "Because you love your mother, don't you, Kohane-chan?"

Tsuyuri froze. I was a little shocked. I honestly hadn't thought Kimihiro had caught the glaringly obvious hints the woman—and her behavior towards her daughter—had tossed his way.

"I—" Tsuyuri swallowed whatever she'd been about to say, and simply looked up at Kimihiro like a lost lamb.

Kimihiro ran his fingers through the locks of hair that drifted around her like a cloud. "Kohane-chan loves her mother even though her mother has hurt Kohane-chan terribly," he said softly. "Kohane-chan wants to make her mother happy, and that's why she does the television shows. Even if she doesn't want to be on TV, Kohane-chan does as her mother asks, because that's the only way she knows how to make her mother smile."

His fingers drifted to the girl's face, and he cupped her cheek. "Even when Kohane-chan's mother says mean things, and won't touch Kohane-chan, and won't call Kohane-chan by her name, and—" His eyes flicked to the bandages again. "And even when Kohane-chan's mother is very, very angry…you still love her very much, don't you?"

The girl looked broken for a moment, and I mused that I'd never seen her express this much emotion before.

In the background, the crying was getting ever so slightly quieter, as if my boy's words were calming it down.

"Yes," she said at last, closing her eyes. "Even if Mother does bad things, and is very selfish, and hurts Kimihiro-kun, I still love her very much. I want her to be proud of me."

"Because she is your mother," finished Kimihiro, and nodded once, slowly. "I understand."

"Isn't that…selfish of me, too?" asked Tsuyuri. Kimihiro's lips curved up at the corners a little.

"Perhaps," he said and tugged gently on her hair. "But it's definitely okay to be selfish every once in a while. Kohane-chan can't spend her entire life trying to make other people happy and disregarding her own feelings." He tilted up her chin when her eyes fell. "That includes making your mother happy, Kohane-chan. I know you love her very much, but you know that what she did to you is wrong."

"I know."

"And you know that you cannot let your mother keep hurting you like that just because you want to make her happy."

Tsuyuri looked torn. "What if I can't ever make Mother happy, Kimihiro-kun?"

Kimihiro sighed. "Kohane-chan, I think that there are some people in the world whom you will never be able to satisfy completely."

I looked at my boy and thought, _Definitely true._

"But," he continued in a slightly more cheerful voice, "it's better to focus on those people whom you _can _make happy, and be proud of yourself for doing that much."

"The people…I can make happy?" Tsuyuri sounded thoughtful now.

The crying had stopped completely.

Kimihiro nodded. "There are people in this world who are happy to have met you, Kohane-chan. Thinking about those people is definitely better than thinking about the people whom you cannot make happy."

She blinked up at him. "Do I…Is…Is Kimihiro-kun happy to have met me?" she asked shyly.

He beamed at her. "Of course!"

To my slight surprise, she turned to me. "And…Doumeki-san too?"

I looked down at her and patted her head a couple of times reassuringly.

She smiled a little bit.

In the air, as if from very far away, I could hear what sounded like a little girl giggling. It was a good sound. I glanced at Kimihiro, who was grinning. He could hear it, too.

Tsuyuri turned to Kimihiro again. "Thank you, Kimihiro-kun," she whispered. "Kimihiro-kun is a very good person to talk to. Like a big brother. Or…or a mother."

Kimihiro face-faulted. "Y-you mean a father, don't you, Kohane-chan?"

I shook my head. "She's right. You're the mothering type."

"I—I—" He wanted to yell at me, I could tell. But he wouldn't do it with Tsuyuri right there in front of him. He settled for glaring at me over her head.

Tsuyuri's smile grew a little bit, and I thought for a second that she would grow up to be very pretty. The boys would be jumping hoops for her attention. I guessed, since Kimihiro was the mother-figure, that made me the father, and so it was probably up to me to make sure that the boys knew damn good and well who they'd have to go through to get to her.

I shrugged; it wasn't as if I didn't already know how to do that; Kimihiro was certainly never aware of his share of admirers, or their healthy, if somewhat browbeaten, respect for his personal space, and I wasn't about to tell him I'd had anything to do with that.

As if she could sense my thoughts, I heard Tsuyuri's heart giggling again, though she wasn't doing anything more than smiling.

"Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker," she said, and she sounded all at once like the little girl she was: mischievous and cheerful. "You are definitely a very good mother. That is your strength." A fleeting sadness passed over her face like a shadow, and I knew she had to be thinking of her own mother. "Do you accept your strength?"

Kimihiro regarded her for a moment. "Before I do," he said finally, "can I tell you a secret, Kohane-chan?"

She blinked. "All right."

He leaned forward and touched a finger to her nose.

"You know, it's okay to cry sometimes," he said softly.

I stared at him. _Well, _this _is a turnaround, _I thought, half-amused. _Who was it that swore that crying meant you were a 'weak little baby?'_

Tsuyuri frowned. "It is?"

Kimihiro nodded seriously. "Crying doesn't mean you're weak. It means that you're strong enough to show your pain to others, and you're strong enough to admit that you need help." His eyes flew up to meet mine for a half-second, daring me to argue. I wasn't about to; after all, this was his way of telling me I was right. I'd take what I could get.

Tsuyuri looked at him. Then, to my surprise, and Kimihiro's, tears welled up in the eye that wasn't covered by bandages, rolling down her cheek.

"I'm…strong?" she whispered.

Kimihiro smiled at her and wiped at her cheek with his thumb.

"Very strong," he assured her.

Her lips trembled into a smile, and her entire body glowed bright white, condensing in seconds into Card form.

Kimihiro held the Card in his hand and blinked. "But I didn't even accept yet!" he said, shocked.

"Yes you did," I told him, and he looked up at me in complete bewilderment.

It was then that I noticed my hand was still on his shoulder. As much I wanted to stay right where I was, I took a step back and let my hand fall to my side. Kimihiro didn't seem to notice.

"I did?" he murmured, and looked at the Card in his hand. He got to his feet, let out a little sigh, and smiled. "I guess I did."

The Card was a portrait of Tsuyuri, her hands delicately folded in her lap, her face containing the barest hint of a smile and the slightest glint of tears. The letters at the bottom read THE MAID.

"MAID?" read Kimihiro with a frown. I knew he was thinking of himself, working as Yuuko's personal servant, and I rolled my eyes.

"Short for _maiden,"_ I told him. "Like a damsel in distress?"

"Shut up," he said without much heat, still staring at the Card. "I knew that."

"Right." I smirked at him. "So…you make a good mother, huh?"

He glowered at me. "Keep it up, assface, I'm warning you…"

An amused chuckle rang out in the air behind us.

I sighed and turned around. _Great. More disembodied—_

My eyes narrowed in immediate anger.

Standing not ten meters away was the spirit woman who'd nearly drained Kimihiro's life energy.

Kimihiro gasped. "You're—"

_Oh hell no. This is _not _happening._

Before Kimihiro could say another word, I placed myself squarely in front of him and glared at the woman openly. I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

"Dou—" began Kimihiro in protest.

"No," I said shortly. "Not until I'm sure she's not a threat to you."

"You—"

I ignored his outraged shout and focused intently on the woman standing before me. She didn't look transparent this time, but that meant absolutely nothing in the realm of spirits and supernatural beings.

A sad little smile curved her mouth as she held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not going to hurt him this time," she said quietly. "This is a completely different place. I'm not the same as I was."

I eyed her distrustfully. "How do you know?"

"This is a world of _his_ creation," she replied in the same quiet voice. "As long as Watanuki-kun doesn't see me as a threat to him, I won't be."

She had a point there. The little idiot hadn't even paid attention to the threat she posed to his life while he was _dying, _so there was no way he'd see her as dangerous in his own dream.

With a sigh, I stepped aside and allowed for Kimihiro to pass me.

For a moment, he didn't move. I watched his eyes, and the emotions in them. I knew that he was reliving the past, meeting the spirit woman, his joy in finding someone to talk to and confide in, his horror at discovering her part in his illness, his eventual determination to not care because she was the closest thing to a mother that he'd had in a long time. And my execution of her. That was the only was to describe it, after all; I'd executed her, without mercy. She'd been killing him, with full knowledge if not intention, and that alone was enough to sentence her to an exorcism in my eyes.

I saw all those things run through his mind, his eyes, before he blinked them away with that same frustrating _devil-may-care_ attitude that had nearly gotten him killed (numerous times) in the first place.

"You're a moron," he told me irritatedly before marching past me. To my utter annoyance, he walked right up to the woman and took her hand with a bright smile.

"It's good to see you again," he said softly, and damn it, he _did_ sound glad to see her.

The idiot.

Did he have absolutely no survival skills at all? Or at least a learning capacity? Common sense, even? No, with him it was _Hey, you almost killed me, but I still think you're a pretty nice person._ Hell, I should have known better; he was crazy about Kunogi the Random Disaster Magnet, wasn't he? Just proved that he was stupid, was all; I _really_ should have seen this coming.

Didn't mean I had to like it, though.

I folded my arms and scowled at the two of them, my idiot and his would-be killer, greeting each other like long-lost friends.

The woman was looking at my idiot with a pensive expression. "Watanuki-kun," she said hesitantly.

My idiot shook his head and squeezed her hand. "I'm okay, really, I am. Don't be sad, please, Kaede-san."

Kaede. The would-be killer's name was _Kaede?_ I suppressed a derisive snort without even knowing why I wanted to snort derisively in the first place. Then I frowned and wondered why he'd never told me.

_Probably because I'm the one who shot her._

My shoulder blades itched restlessly.

Kaede smiled at him uncertainly. "All right, Watanuki-kun. I believe you." She still looked guilty, though. Good.

My idiot gestured at the park bench where he'd been sitting with Tsuyuri moments ago. "Would you like to have a seat?" he asked solicitiously. Aw, how cute—my idiot, Little Miss Manners. Gag me.

Kaede glanced at me as if to ask my permission, and I scowled extra hard just so she would understand that she _did not have it_, but she still accepted the hand my idiot offered her. He led her to the bench and made sure she was situated comfortably.

"Would you like some coffee?" he said eagerly, then paused and flushed. "Oh, I forgot. We don't have—" He broke off and stared, dumbfounded, at the vending machines that had materialized out of nowhere.

"This is _your_ dream, Watanuki-kun," Kaede reminded him gently. He blinked at her, then laughed a little bit self-deprecatingly.

"Right." And he jogged toward the vending machines.

Hmph. Whenever _I _mentioned this being a dream, he got mad at me. But of course, if _Kaede_ said it, it wasn't _nearly _as bad. Of _course._

"Do you even _have_ money?" I called after him in irritation. He was acting like a lovesick little schoolboy, tripping over himself to make this woman happy. Wasn't he the one who was telling Tsuyuri all about being selfish? Goodness knew that my idiot was _never, ever selfish._

He paused in front of the vending machine and sent me a sulky look that told me that he hadn't thought about the financial aspect of his lovesickness. Then a curious look crossed his face, and he gave one of the buttons on the machine an experimental jab.

A can of coffee fell into the bottom tray.

Delighted, my idiot retrieved it and got another coffee for himself, then practically danced back to Kaede, who was watching him with a slight smile.

Of course. In _his _dream, coffee was _free_ if it was for people who almost _killed_ you.

My face began to hurt from the deepness of the scowl.

When they'd settled onto the bench with their coffees, chatting about what had been going on in my idiot's life since Kaede _almost killed him,_ I waited for him to bring up the topic of the Cards.

Ten minutes later, when Kaede was staring at him wide-eyed with a hand on her face, exclaiming about how _horrible_ it was that poor Watanuki-kun had to lose his eye, I took a deep breath and counseled myself to be patient.

Any minute now.

Fifteen minutes after _that,_ when my idiot had explained about Kunogi's propensity to dole out bad luck to anyone who touched her the way old lecherous men gave out candy to small children (and his discovery regarding this via falling out a third-story window), and Kaede had made appropriate horrified-sympathetic noises, I gritted my teeth and tapped my fingers on my arms.

Soon, right? There couldn't be _that_ much to tell her.

Only his entire life story since I'd shot her, apparently. Yet another ten minutes later, and neither of them had acknowledged me in the slightest, besides Kaede's frequent _oh-dear-oh-dear _glances at me. My idiot had ignored me completely for the past thirty-five minutes, and my feet were getting tired of standing in one place without moving for so long. I hadn't done _that _since he'd been sucked beneath a hydrangea bush, and damned if I was going to spend another ten hours waiting while he had a merry old time with someone who'd almost succeeded in killing him.

"You're a Card, right?" I cut across his enthusiastic re-enactment of something Kunogi had said to him in school the other day and fixed Kaede with my best _talk-damn-you_ stare.

"Doumeki, you jerk, we're _talking,_" snapped my idiot, fixing me with his best _shut-up-damn-you_ stare.

"You're wasting time," I corrected without taking my eyes off the woman, who held my gaze unfalteringly. I was getting pretty damn tired of watching my idiot fawn over women who were just not good for his life expectancy rate, while treating _me,_ the only person who was completely dedicated to keeping him safe and alive, like I was his worst enemy. "Did you forget that we had a job to do?"

He flinched at that. "A _job?"_ he snapped. "No, Doumeki, I did not forget we had a _job_ to do." He spat the word back at me. "But if you're so concerned about _wasting time,_ then you can wake the hell up and go back to your own life and leave me the hell alone!"

"No, I can't, you idiot," I said, at the same time Kaede said, "No, he can't, Watanuki-kun." Her eyes were still fixed on mine.

"I told you before," I added, "I'm here because you are. I'm not leaving until you do."

"It goes even beyond that," Kaede said.

My idiot gaped at her, stunned at her contribution to this conversation; I simply stared her down.

She backed down gracefully, her eyes falling to her lap before sweeping back up to my idiot's face almost pleadingly.

"Watanuki-kun," she said gently, "It is not a matter of whether or not either of you chooses to be here. Doumeki-san _cannot_ leave unless you awaken. If you don't wake, both of you will fade away."

All the color drained from my boy's face. I swore heatedly under my breath. If he fainted, I was going to find a way to shoot the damn woman again, even without my bow.

Luckily for her, he merely gripped the can of coffee in his hands so tightly the sides caved in slightly. He looked at me, back at her, then back at me.

"Kaede-san," he said without looking away from me. "Do you mean that if I don't wake from my dream…Doumeki will die?"

Huh. He said that as if it was actually…a _bad_ thing. Wonders never ceased.

"Yes," said Kaede simply. "You will die also."

He acted as if he hadn't heard anything more than 'yes,' had completely ignored the fact that _he _would die in order to focus on the fact that _I _would die. I wanted to shake him. What was the bigger issue here?

"Don't even think about it," I warned him.

He blinked. "What?"

"You're thinking about something self-sacrificing, like finding a way to send me out of the dream so that it's just you in here," I guessed, and when his cheeks darkened, I glared at him. "You're being an idiot. Stop it."

If only it were that easy.

"Don't call me an idiot," snapped my idiot.

"Don't be an idiot, then," I suggested.

"Excuse me," said Kaede politely.

We both turned to her.

"Yes?"

"What?"

"Why do you want to send away Doumeki-san?"

My idiot stared at her. "Huh?"

"Because he's an idiot," I muttered.

Kaede tilted her head to the side. "I'm simply confused as to why you would send away the only person who can possibly help you wake from this dream."

He seemed absolutely lost for words. "I—that is—he's—this isn't—"

Well. This was interesting.

My idiot seemed to be grasping at straws. "It's—it's just that—" He glanced at me, blushed, then stared at the ground.

Ah, a sure sign that he was going to start flailing in a moment.

"Is he very important to you?" asked Kaede.

Bingo.

As his arms helicoptered and windmilled and propelled, sending coffee flying from the open can, my boy stuttered out a denial. "N-n-n-no, of c-course not!" he yelped, cheeks apple-red. "He's not important to me at all! Th-th-that's completely—it's not even—he's d-d-definitely not—"

"_Methinks the lady doth protest too much_," I mumbled in English.

He paused in his flailing to glare at me.

"When I get my hands on an English dictionary, I will figure out whatever you just called me and I will end you," he promised.

"'Lady' was part of it," I said helpfully.

Kaede chuckled behind her hand.

"You two seem to be so close," she said.

My idiot's jaw dropped. I considered Kaede for a moment, and her very Kunogi-esque commentary.

As scary as it seemed, Kunogi would probably grow up to _be_ Kaede.

I was distracted from this altogether unsettling thought when Kaede said, "You still haven't answered me, Watanuki-kun. Why would you send away your only hope at waking up?"

Before he could attempt to flail his way out of answering, she went on, "Is it because you feel guilty, Watanuki-kun? Is it because you don't want him to fade away because of you?"

My boy froze, his eyes darting wildly from Kaede to me. "I—"

My eyebrows rose. "Really," I said interestedly. "That's—kinda stupid, actually."

He made a sound like a scalded cat.

"_It is not stupid!"_ he hissed at me. "It's not because you're special or anything! It's because—because—" He gulped, then looked away, the can in his hands now mangle beyond recognition.

"It's because I don't want anyone else to die…protecting me," he whispered finally.

I stared at him, and then I understood.

_His parents._

He thought his parents had died because of him. The people he loved most in the world had died protecting him from the spirits, and he didn't want the same thing to happen to me.

"Watanuki," I said, stunned.

He didn't look at me.

"Watanuki-kun," said Kaede gently.

He looked at her, though. Little jerk.

"After all these years, you still cling to your guilty feelings," she said softly. "Even knowing that your parents' death was not your fault, even knowing that they protected you because they wanted to, because they loved you, you still feel responsible for what happened to them." Her eyes flicked towards me for a brief moment, then returned to him. "And you are letting your feelings of guilt control your actions toward…certain people in your life."

So. This was what Mugetsu had been hinting at, when he'd said Kimihiro intentionally kept people away from him. This was what Kimihiro had meant when he'd said, "I'm afraid." This was why Kimihiro kept making me lunches even as he raised holy hell about every minute he spent doing it.

He was trying, in his own way, to apologize to his parents, and to me, for having to be involved in such danger.

"Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker." Kaede stood and put her virtually untouched coffee down on the bench, then gently removed my boy's horribly disfigured can from his hand and put that one beside hers. She leaned over and slipped her arms around him. "You precious, precious child."

"'M not a child," he whispered, his gaze glassy.

"You are very much still a child," she said, pressing her cheek against the top of his head. "You may not be a little boy anymore, but you are very much a child in many things, Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker. And you have clung to your childhood for a long time." She straightened and ran her fingers through his hair. "It is time for you to be an adult now and realize that you were not to blame for your parents' death. You are old enough and wise enough to know better than that now. You could not have stopped them from choosing to protect you any more than you can stop Doumeki-san from choosing to do the same."

"So you're saying…it was hitsuzen," Kimihiro whispered.

_Always,_ I thought.

Kaede sighed. "If that is what you want to call it. You certainly cannot change their decisions one they have been made. That is not your responsibility—and the consequences that result from those decisions are not your fault."

My boy was quiet for a while. Then he sighed and lifted a hand to clutch at Kaede's kimono, and I was reminded irrevocably of how Tsuyuri had clung to him while he'd embraced her. Like…

_Mother and child._

"You're the mother card," I said out loud.

Kaede turned her head and smiled at me.

Kimihiro eyes went round. He pulled back and stared at Kaede.

"The mother," he repeated, and earned a smile from her.

"Yes," she said simply.

My boy regarded her solemnly.

"And I'm a child," he murmured.

"Yes," said Kaede again. "Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker, your flaw is that you allow your feelings of guilt to dictate how you act toward the people who are most important to you. Do you accept your flaw?"

He looked at her.

"You're a good mother," he said quietly, and when her eyes went wide with surprised pleasure, he whispered, "Thank you, Kaede-san. I accept."

After she disappeared in a flash of light, Kimihiro sat on the bench and stared at the Card in his hand for a long time.

I sat down beside him and looked down at THE MOTHER, and thought about Kaede's last words.

_The people who are most important to you._

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and said nothing.

He'd figure it out someday. After all, it was hitsuzen.

Always.

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A/N: Epic, as usual. And the ending was sort of angsty, for once, instead of humorous to lighten the situation. Well, I'm not TOO disappointed with this one, although it was touch-and-go for a while with the whole Kaede thing. Yes, I made up a name for the spirit woman. I get the feeling that she and Watanuki knew each other well enough to have exchanged names, at least. She certainly knew his (at least, in the anime she did. Can't remember if she called by name in the manga. Whatev.), and even if Watanuki's an idiot, he's a polite enough idiot to ask for someone's name if he keeps having regular meetings with that person. And also, about Kohane's mother—IT WAS SO TOTALLY THAT BITCH WHO PUSHED KOHANE DOWN THE STAIRS. I'll believe that until CLAMP says otherwise. Maybe not even then—these _are_ the same people who claim "NO CAN HAS GHEI IN CLAMPDOM NO WAY NEVER NOT EVER EXCEPT MAYBE SAIGA AND KAKEI FROM LEGAL DRUG, BUT ONLY MAYBE!" Not the most convincing argument, is it?


	7. the mask and the mirror

Title: Dreamwalker – Chapter Seven: The Mask and the Mirror.

Rating: PG-13ish

Warnings: A swear or two. Still in first-person Doumeki POV. Couldn't escape. Sorry.

A/N: The nature of this chapter is VERY different from previous chapters. There is a reason for it. You'll see. Read on. And also, the long-missing disclaimer: Not mine, yadda yadda. :3

Dedication: Kiin-chan for being so very, very motivational and for making me laugh when I thought I'd go crazy, and Pen-chan for being so very, very patient with my procrastination and MY LAST MINUTES CHANGES LIKE THE TITLE OF THE CHAPTER AND THE FACT THAT I DELETED THREE CHAPTERS OF THIS STORY BECAUSE OF THIS. ONE. CHAPTER. WHICH WOULD GO WHERE I PLANNED FOR IT TO GO. I wanted to cry. She patted my head and told me quite pleasantly to grow up and let the story go where it wanted to.

Summary: Watanuki is caught between a revelation that could change his relationship with Doumeki forever, and a decision that could change the fate of all worlds forever. Poor guy just doesn't get any breaks…

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_I am a very particular person. I don't have a lot of preferences, but the few I do have, I'm very, very particular about._

_When I'm not practicing archery, I like to eat. When I'm not eating (and even better, when I am), I like to be with Kimihiro._

_This is because archery, eating, and Kimihiro happen to be my favorite things, in order from least to greatest. Right now I'm not able to access the first two, but I've had an abundant amount of the latter over the indistinguishable period of time we've been stuck in his dream. It doesn't look as if that period of time will end in the near future._

_Then again, when it comes to Kimihiro, nothing every happens like I think it will._

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Needless to say, I was pretty content with my life regarding the extended Kimihiro-time I'd been granted. Even without the archery and the eating, I couldn't remember feeling more satisfied with the world in general.

However, one thing disturbed me a lot. Since his encounter with the Card manifesting itself as Kaede, the spirit woman who'd nearly killed my boy before I exorcised her, Kimihiro seemed to be thoroughly depressed, as if he couldn't get his mind off the very depressing thoughts she'd inspired him to think.

I grumbled to myself. Every time that damn woman showed up, it only spelled heartache—in Kimihiro, and in me _for_ Kimihiro.

Wait. I knew of a way to, if not cheer him up, then at least get him out of this funk he was in. Carefully I wiped all traces of concern from my face before speaking casually.

"Oi."

To my satisfaction, my boy fired right up on command.

"My name is _not_ 'Oi,' you single-brain-functioned disgrace of a primate."

"You should make inarizushi," I told him matter-of-factly. My boy responded beautifully.

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REPEAT MYSELF? I DO NOT TAKE ORDERS! IF I _DO_ MAKE IT, IT'S ONLY BECAUSE I KNOW HIMAWARI-CHAN LIKES IT SO MUCH, SO DON'T GO GETTING ANY IDEAS!"

I nodded as if my boy's rambling made sense.

"So you should make her inarizushi."

Kimihiro scowled at me, then glanced around him in obvious disdain, taking in the bench, the tree, the vending machines, and the white space that occupied every other area. "Right. I'll get right on that, shall I? In the nonexistent kitchen. With the nonexistent ingredients. For the—" He considered his words. "Not-currently-in-attendance Himawari-chan. Sure. I'll whip up a feast right now." He snorted at me expressively.

"When we get back," I said to him. He stopped and stared at me.

"What?"

"When you wake up, and we don't have school. We should all go on a picnic. And you should make inarizushi." He stared some more. "Because Kunogi likes it," I added helpfully.

"When we…get back." He repeated my words carefully, and I knew that I'd at least gotten his mind off Kaede. Heh. Bull's-eye.

"Yeah." I made sure that I put every ounce of sincerity I could into the tone of my voice without sounding downright eager. I caught his eye and let him see my conviction that we _would_ get out of here, and he _would_ wake up in the right world, the one where he had me to protect him.

He blushed and looked away. "For—for Himawari-chan."

Wasn't he a good little parrot. I tried not to roll my eyes.

"You should make…_her_…oolong tea, too." I'd almost said _me, _which would most probably have resulted in the absence of tea and sushi altogether. My boy could be quite stubborn when he chose to be.

"I KNOW THAT, YOU TROLL," Kimihiro snapped. "HIMAWARI-CHAN LIKES OOLONG TEA WITH HER INARIZUSHI. THAT IS WHY I WOULD _MAKE_ OOLONG TEA TO _GO_ WITH THE INARIZUSHI." He scowled at me. "I DON'T NEED _YOU_ TELLING ME HOW TO MAKE A LUNCH PROPERLY!"

_Depending upon the definition of 'properly.'_ I shrugged. "Sure you don't."

"ARE YOU MOCKING ME, REJECT?" thundered my boy.

I schooled my expression into its blankest form. On the inside, I was snickering with amusement at how adorably predictable he was. "Just agreeing with you. You _don't_ need me to tell you how to make a lunch properly."

Kimihiro blinked, apparently unused to me telling him that he was right. He recovered quickly though. "Y-YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I DON'T!"

"So you'll be making the inarizushi and oolong, then?"

"DIDN'T I JUST SAY—"

"That Kunogi would like it? Yeah, you did," I pointed out. "You wouldn't want to disappoint Kunogi, would you?"

Kimihiro stared at me, obviously thrown for a loop.

"I won't," he finally said with a suspicious glare. "I'll make a special picnic featuring all Himawari-chan's favorite foods once we collect all the Cards and I wake up. _A-and_ _you don't get a say in the menu!"_ He pointed dramatically at me. I gave him a peaceful look.

"Do I ever?" I asked innocently. _Don't I always?_

"NO YOU DON'T."

As my boy stomped ahead, muttering direly under his breath and obviously unsure as to whether or not he'd just won that particular round, I walked behind him and caught the words _inarizushi_ and _oolong_ and _only for Himawari-chan's sake_, and permitted myself a small triumphant grin as I followed sedately.

_Dance, puppet. Dance._

.1.

.0.

.4.

We were back to trekking through the vast whiteness again, having left the tree and the park bench far behind. To be honest, I hadn't noticed when exactly they'd disappeared, so I couldn't tell how far we'd gotten.

"Hey, Doumeki," said Kimihiro suddenly, sounding uncharacteristically timid, and I looked at him.

"Hmm?"

"What do you think…the real world looks like?" he said hesitantly.

I stared at him. _"What?"_

"The world—the world I didn't dream." He wasn't meeting my eyes. "I just—I just thought that maybe the world outside my dream might be different from…everything it usually is. You know." Now his cheeks were a dull pink, and he shook his head firmly. "Never mind, it was just a question."

"A stupid question," I said, and he whirled on me.

"_Who asked you?"_

I lifted an eyebrow. "_You_ did."

He blinked at me, then glared and resumed ignoring me.

But now the question was in _my_ mind, and I couldn't ignore curious things like that half as well as Kimihiro could.

What _did_ that world look like? If the world I remembered was all part of Watanuki's dream, did that mean that it was a reflection of Watanuki's perception of the world? Did the real world have spirits in it that endangered my boy's life? Did he even _need_ me?

A hard ball lodged in the pit of my stomach. _Yes,_ I thought furiously, _yes he does. He has to. If I need him this much, then there's no way he's allowed to _not_ need me back. _

Before I knew what I was doing, I reached forward and grabbed Kimihiro's hand.

He froze in midstep, and I could see his shoulders tense. If he'd had a tail, it would be puffed up at the end, and he he'd had ears, they'd be flat against his head.

"What," he said very clearly without looking at me, "are you doing?"

I thought about it.

"You'll get lost without me," I said finally, and not even _I _knew whether I was talking about him being lost in the real world or in this dream world. It was the same either way, I decided.

He was silent for a long moment.

"You," he said very calmly, still without looking at me, "are an idiot."

He started walking again, but didn't try to pull his hand from mine.

_Now why,_ I wondered tiredly, _can't he apply this behavior to the _rest_ of our relationship?_

.1.

.0.

.4.

We were lost.

I'm not sure how that was possible under the condition that everywhere we went looked exactly the same—big and white and endless—but we were.

But we were lost _together_. That was a plus. And Kimihiro had yet to pull away from me. A-plus, even. He'd even relaxed his fingers. Extra credit.

Food and archery there might not be, but the Kimihiro-time more than made up for it.

"Hey," he said again.

"Yeah?"

He paused, and I knew he had to be thinking about that real-world question again.

"You said before…that you think we're still together. In the real world. Right?"

My heart began to beat very fast. "I…yeah," I said, my mouth dry. "I think we're still together."

He glanced at me, and blushed bright red, correcting himself hastily. "I-I-I meant _we_ as in you and me and Himawari-chan and Yuuko-san and everyone!" He glanced at me again. "Haven't I warned you before about s-s-subtext?"

Oh. I tried not to feel too disappointed, reminding myself that he'd said _you and me_ first. "Right. Well, yeah. I think we're…all…together."

After a moment, after the flush in his cheeks had died somewhat, he said quietly, "Do you think we're the same kind of people?"

Frowning, I thought about it for a moment. "Define 'kind of people.'"

He made a vaguely sweeping gesture with his free hand. "I mean, do you think we—act the same? Think the same? Feel the same?"

This was an interesting question. I looked at him seriously.

"I'm pretty sure _you_ act like a flailing idiot no matter what scope of reality you're in. Anything else would just be out of character."

He scowled and aimed a kick at my ankle, which I dodged while continuing thoughtfully, "And I'm not sure how to answer the rest of it. Most of the time, it's hard for me to know what you're thinking, and…who knows if your feelings will change?"

He jutted out his chin. "My feelings for Himawari-chan will _never_ change?"

I rolled my eyes. "There's more to life than Kunogi." _Open your eyes and _look _at me, damn you, _I thought desperately. "And most of it's a hell of a lot less life-threatening."

Instead of his eyes, he opened his mouth, and I expected him to go off on a rant about how anything other than Kunogi was a waste of his time, except possible cooking. But he surprised me by asking, "What about you?"

My heart began to thud alarmingly again. Had he somehow guessed what I was thinking? "What…_about_ me?"

"Do you think _you're_ the same person?" he pressed, and for the second time in as many minutes, my heart fell. I'd hoped…but of course not. Why would I expect him to realize…?

"Yes," I said shortly, and tugged him along.

"Hey, don't pull on me," he complained, jogging to keep up. "What do you mean, 'yes?'"

"Yes is yes," I said. "And you say _my_ conversational skills are lacking."

"I _mean,_" he snapped, " 'yes, you act the same,' 'yes, you think the same,' or 'yes, you feel the same.' Which 'yes' is it?"

"All of them," I muttered. I couldn't, after all, imagine a world in which I didn't feel exactly this way about Kimihiro, or think about him all the time, or do anything to protect him. Before I could stop myself, I added, "As long as you're around."

He went very quiet suddenly, while I cursed myself for not _shutting up._

"Subtext," he whispered, and I felt the weight on my shoulders at once lighten and grow heavier. Would he _never _understand?

"Truth," I said, purposely shrugging away my heartache. His cheeks pinked again, and he wouldn't look at me.

"Scary," he mumbled. "I hoped that maybe you'd be less of a jerk than you are now."

I pretended not to hear him.

.1.

.0.

.4.

"Hey," said Kimihiro again, a little while later.

By now I was resigned to the topic of conversation. As long as he wasn't being depressed over Kaede the spirit woman, I could deal with incessant questions about the validity of reality or whatever-the-hell philosophy he wanted to wax. It was a way to pass the time, after all.

"What?"

"Do you think _Yuuko-san_ is the same?"

I pretended not to hear that either.

After a while, he nodded slowly.

"Right."

.1.

.0.

.4.

"Hey."

"What."

He glanced at me. "Are you going to let go of me anytime soon?" he groused, cheeks pink again.

I pretended not to hear that, too.

He scowled.

But he didn't protest, and he didn't pull away.

.1.

.0.

.4.

What I judged to be an hour or so later, we were still holding hands, and my boy's fingers were relaxed enough that they curled loosely around mine. I tried not to let my hopes get too high; perhaps he was just extremely exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions he'd been riding. His passiveness was pleasantly surprising, but I couldn't help thinking about the Western parable of King Solomon, and the engraved ring that would make a sad man forget his sorrow and a happy man forget his joys: _This, too, shall pass._

We'd been wandering around in relative silence—he hadn't asked a question since the one about us holding hands—when Kimihiro suddenly said, "Hey, Doumeki."

I had the feeling that pretending to ignore him this time wouldn't work.

"What?"

"Can I ask you something?"

_Again?_ I wanted to say, but his tone of voice made me rethink my statement. "Yeah."

He deliberated for a moment. "What—what's…going on?" he said at last, and his cheeks grew so red that I thought he might grow dizzy from the heat.

"What?" I said again, frowning.

"With…with us," he clarified, looking at any part of the whiteness surrounding us, refusing to meet my eyes.

I tensed suddenly. "With…us?" I repeated slowly, my heartbeat quickening once more despite my assurances to myself that he couldn't possibly mean what I was thinking—what I was _hoping—_he meant.

He nodded, still averting his gaze. "Yeah."

I thought fast. "Well, apparently we're still stuck in your dream, if that's what you—"

"No."

I stared at him, stunned at the quietly spoken interruption. He turned to me at last, and there was something in his eyes, something violent and peaceful, something awful and beautiful, something blue and gold—not the color, but the _emotion_ in them.

"That's not the _us_ I meant," he said.

"What…" I took a shaky, silent breath, willing myself to _not_ look away from that very, very intense gaze. "What did you mean?"

He shook our linked hands lightly. "_Us_," he said simply. His eyes said, _You know what I mean._

I couldn't have thought of something coherent to say if my life depended on it.

Oblivious to my state of shock, he said slowly, "I know I've told you about a thousand different times to…to be careful about the sort of things you say, because people might take them the wrong way, but—" He lifted a shoulder moodily. "But you never _listen,_ and I think it has to be more than you just living to irritate the crap out of me whenever possible. And now—" He shook our hands again. "_This_. I just—" He scowled, apparently unable to express himself properly, which was funny in a _So not the right time to laugh_ sort of way, because he'd never had trouble expressing himself to me before.

I could hear my heart in my _ears,_ I was so nervous. I desperately hoped my palms wouldn't start sweating. Trying to present an air of casual indifference, I pulled my hand away from his and told myself it was stupid to feel like I'd cut it off completely. "Not like I care what people think, but if it bothers you that much, all you have to do is tell me to stop," I said.

He eyed me dubiously. "I _have,"_ he said pointedly. "And you _didn't."_

_Shit._

"I—" I began, but he steamrolled right over my feeble argument.

"I've told you hundreds of times to stop saying things that sound so weird. I _know_ I asked you to let my hand go. But you didn't. And I want to know why."

My brain seemed sluggish. "Look," I heard myself saying, "if you can't take a joke—"

"_Don't,"_ he breathed, all at once furious. His eyes blazed _Damn you damn you_ at me. "Don't you _dare_ lie to me. Don't you _dare_ treat this like a joke. You don't even _make_ jokes. You never say or do _anything_ you don't mean to, anything you don't _want_ to, anything that doesn't have some purpose behind it."

"Watanuki," I began.

"If you tell me you didn't mean any of it," he whispered, going very pale, "if you tell me it was all just a _game _to you…I'll hate you for the rest of my life."

I was absolutely astonished. "Watan—"

"Enough people have come and gone in my life that I'm used to watching them walk away," he said, his voice very low. "I can't afford to lose anyone else."

He was trembling with anger. I wanted so badly—_so_ badly—to reach out, to draw him closer, but I knew that if I did so now, not only would he rebuff me, he'd probably make an effort to knock me unconscious.

"But if you tell me you've just been _playing around_," he said, the words bitten off venomously, "_I _will be the one to walk away, and I promise you that I won't look back."

My eyes went wide. I stared at him, lost for words.

We stood like that, facing each other down, him daring me to speak, me trying desperately to.

_It had to happen one day,_ I reasoned miserably, and I opened my mouth to tell him the truth—trying to brace my heart against his swift rejection. It was inevitable. _Hitsuzen,_ I thought, and wanted to punch something.

But before I could say anything, a figure appeared beside us as if it were materializing out of a fog.

Without thinking about it, I stepped in front of Kimihiro, ready to attack, to defend—desperately grateful for the reprieve—but the figure laughed. "Oh, please, don't worry," it said in what sounded like the voice of a boy about our age. "I'm not going to do anything to hurt you. I'm actually here to help you!" Slowly his shape became clearer, the image of him sharper, like an invisible mist around him was clearing.

I peered at him. He had sandy brown hair and very light brown eyes that looked almost gold. I frowned; I'd never met anyone else with eye color like mine before. The difference was that he wore glasses.

"Hi!" he chirped. "My name is Tsukishiro Yukito. Pleased to meet you." He bowed.

My boy tried to peer over my shoulder, but I backed him up a step. Ignoring his huff of annoyance ("Hey! You hulking ape!"), I demanded, "How do you know about Watanuki?"

Tsukishiro straightened with a smile bright enough to blind the sun. "You could say that he and I are in the same boat," he said cheerfully. "In a metaphysical and emotional sense, that is."

My eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"

The boy's smile became slightly dimmer, more self-mocking. "Only that I, like Watanuki-san, am both more than and not quite what I appear to be."

From behind me, my boy inhaled sharply. "You're…not human either?"

Tsukishiro tilted his head curiously. "Not quite," he said again. "Although you, Watanuki-san, are more human, in some respects, than I am, in terms of creation."

I found it odd he chose to use the term 'creation' instead of 'birth' or even 'origin.' However, I couldn't sense any malevolence from this boy, so I stepped aside slowly and let Kimihiro come forward.

He did so cautiously, his eyes flickering over Tsukishiro's face. "What…what do you mean?" he said hesitantly. "You're a Card…aren't you?"

Tsukishiro smiled again. "Yes," he admitted, "but more than that, outside of your dreams, I am a…complex being. You could say that I have a dual nature." He chuckled at some private joke.

Kimihiro blinked. "You exist…outside of my dreams? But I've never met you before," he said, frowning. "I thought all the Cards were people I've met in my life…er, my dreams." He and I shared a glance, but then he apparently remembered that he was in the process of being furious with me, and he glanced away again. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Oh, no," laughed Tsukishiro. "There are too many Cards to assign the roles to only people you remember meeting."

I thought about that. "You're saying he's got more flaws than friends."

My boy turned dull red and whirled around. "You are a _jerk_!" he snarled.

I shrugged, needing this moment of normalcy in order to regain my balance. "They're not _my_ flaws being made into Cards."

Tsukishiro laughed again. "You two remind me of other people I know very well. Except they don't have the relationship you do."

I froze.

Kimihiro looked back at him, sufficiently distracted from deafening my eardrums. "Eh? Relationship?" He gave me a blank look with just the slightest hint of questioning. I did my best to look indifferent to the terminology.

Apparently, that was a bad move, because his face slowly darkened with anger. He glowered at me. "There's no _relationship _here," he said sharply, and I felt a sharp pang go through my chest, "except for maybe unwanted indentured servitude."

I lifted an eyebrow, feigning apathy when it felt like I couldn't breathe properly. "Then shouldn't you be referring to me as 'Master?'" That glib reply was met by his incoherent sputtering.

The other boy simply shook his head. "Well, however you choose to term it." He clapped his hands. "Right! Guess what? I have a story to tell you."

Kimihiro paused. "A story?"

Tsukishiro nodded. "Well, actually…" He smiled secretively. "I suppose I should say it's more of a _legend."_

I didn't like the fact that that word resonated oddly in my ears, almost like déjà vu.

"A legend?" repeated my boy. "About what?"

Tsukishiro gave him a long, silent look. "About a boy," he said quietly after a moment. "And his brush with hitsuzen."

All at once, we were surrounded by darkness, completely replacing the cavernous, boundless white canvas. The only things Kimihiro and I could see were ourselves and one another, as if we were glowing from the inside. Tsukishiro's figure was lost in the blackness.

"What is this?" I ground out, moving closer to Kimihiro. Things were never good for Kimihiro if he stood alone in the dark. "Is this how the legend begins?"

Tsukishiro, still invisible in the sudden blackness, let out a humorless chuckle.

"This is how everything begins," he murmured in a voice that had gone oddly flat, echoing eerily, almost as if he wasn't really speaking at all. "With emptiness."

.1.

.0.

.4.

_Once upon a time, there was a Boy. _

_He lived a life of joy and sorrow, of trials and triumphs, of colors and sounds and sensations and memories. He had family and friends, and his existence was one of contentment and peace. He wished for nothing more in life._

_Once upon a time, this Boy's life changed._

_His family was gone, and his friends drifted away too. He lived alone, trying to pretend that he was perfectly content in his solitude._

_Once upon a time, this Boy met another boy._

_The two boys discovered that although they were very different, their lives were intertwined, and they were constantly in each other's company, sharing the joys and sorrows and trials and triumphs and colors and sounds and sensations and memories of life together. They each had a special power that no one else could know, and they kept each other's secrets. Their lives became even more intertwined as time passed. The Boy was no longer alone._

_Once upon a time, this Boy began to fade away._

_He didn't realize what was going on at first. But the colors he saw became shadows, and the sounds became silence, and the sensations became numbness, and the memories…became emptiness. This Boy didn't know that his existence was in great peril. The other boy realized what was happening, but was too late to warn him._

_Once upon a time, this Boy fell into an enchanted sleep._

_In his sleep, he discovered there was another being inside him—one who was _him,_ but _not_ him. This being was the _true_ him, the _real_ him—the one for which the Boy was merely a mask. Now that the mask had been stripped away, the Boy's true self was revealed. The Boy realized that if he wanted to wake up, if he wanted to return to his life, if he wanted to stop fading away, he needed to bring the two sides of himself together into one reality. But more than that, he realized he was not strong enough to accomplish this on his own, and that he needed the power that the other boy, his friend, offered him. For within the other boy lay a truth that would forever bind the two of them together, a protection that only the other boy could give him. It would grant the Boy the strength to leave the enchanted sleep and merge his two existences. He had but to accept that truth._

_Once upon a time, this Boy made a choice, and forever changed his life._

.1.

.0.

.4.

Kimihiro's breathing was uneven when Tsukishiro fell silent. "Your…your legend," he whispered hoarsely. "It's _my_ story…isn't it?"

"No," said a voice that was Tsukishiro's and yet very definitely not. "It is mine."

A portion of the darkness shifted aside, as if a veil had been yanked away, and standing before us, where the bespectacled Tsukishiro had been, was another person entirely.

He stood tall, elegant, robed in flowing white, his long silver hair trailing down to his feet like a shaft of moonlight. His eyes, I saw, were silver as well, gleaming as sharp and bright—and cold—as steel; the pupils were vertical, like a cat's.

And he had wings. A pair of great, white, feathered wings protruded from his back, almost dwarfing him with their sheer magnitude, and somehow still accenting his ethereality. He stood out starkly against the encompassing black: a beacon of purity in a den of shadow.

For a moment I hesitated, unsure whether he actually _was_ male. Not that I thought he was female; he seemed too beautiful to be ascribed to either gender, as if he simply transcended all earthly comparisons of beauty.

Before Kimihiro could blink, I was standing in front of him again, between him and the newcomer. Beautiful or not, he was still a potential threat, and besides, I was never one to be lulled into a daze by a pretty face. My daily interactions with Kimihiro were enough to prove that.

The strange being's eyes narrowed slightly at me. "You are," he said quietly, "very much like that person."

I frowned at him. _What person?_ "Who are you?" I said harshly. "Where is Tsukishiro?"

He blinked once. "I _am_ Tsukishiro," he replied in the same toneless murmur. "Or rather, Tsukishiro—Yukito—is myself. My other self."

"Other?" said Kimihiro and I at the same time. I relented enough under the distraction of his fist pushing against my shoulder to stand beside him, slightly in front of him just in case.

The being's wings made a rustling sound like leaves swaying in the wind. "Yes. He was created to mask my existence in the world until such time as I was needed." Those slashing eyes fixed on Kimihiro's face. "The legend he described to you was his own. _My_ own."

He came forward—_walked_ was not the term; I realized belatedly that he was floating several inches above the ground, which was what had made him seem so tall; standing, he'd probably be about Kimihiro's height—until he stood about three feet away from us. I edged a little farther in front of Kimihiro.

Those eyes flashed to me briefly. "Be at ease, Dreamwaker," he said. "No harm will befall you or your charge while you are in my presence. I, like you, am a Guardian, and as such am well prepared for any sort of assault."

That's what the police said. Did it work? Not half so well as they claimed.

At my silence, the being's lips curved very, very slightly in what appeared to be amusement.

"Stubborn," he murmured. "And fierce. You _are_ like him."

I was getting rather curious to know who _he _was, if _he _elicited such casual admiration from this otherworldly creature. "Then you should know I won't stand aside," I said.

He blinked those catlike eyes as if processing my words. His smile widened just barely; he nodded to me once, then focused his attention upon Kimihiro.

"Dreamwalker," he said formally, bowing. "I am Yue."

My boy seemed to struggle for words; he looked absolutely amazed that this extraordinary creature was deferring to him "I—uh—hello, Y-Yue-san," he said weakly, his cheeks flushed.

Yue straightened, his eyes intense and thoughtful. "You are like her," he said finally.

Kimihiro faltered. "Eh?"

Wonderful. I was like _him. _Kimihiro was like _her._ Tsukishiro was Yue. Who was Yuuko—Buddha?

"Yue-san," I said firmly, feeling compelled to add an honorific to his name, as if I'd insult him without one. "What happened to Tsukishiro?"

Yue gave me a considering look. "Yukito…is here," he said, touching a hand to his chest. "He is inside me. Part of me. He _is_ me, and so he is here." He touched his chest again.

"He's you," I allowed, "but are you Tsukishiro?"

Yue looked startled at the question, as if no one had ever asked him that before.

"Well…yes," he said after a moment. "If our existences are merged, and we two are one, and he is me, then I am he."

Kimihiro frowned. "Your other self," he murmured as if to himself.

Yue nodded. "There was a time when I referred to him as my 'false' self, because in my eyes, _I _was the true being, and he merely a shell. He agreed with me, often calling me his 'real' self. But since we have merged…" He touched his chest once more, absently, as if he wasn't aware he was doing it. "I cannot in honesty think of him as a false form because his existence was just as real to him, and those around him, as mine to me. In this way, we have compromised, agreeing that we shall accept one another as _other_ sides of ourselves, much like a reflection in a mirror is an opposite image."

"In our world, that's called being bipolar," I mumbled. Kimihiro elbowed me and sent me a _Shut up, you idiot_ glare.

Yue merely looked mildly interested. "Is it?" he said politely, and it took me a moment to realize he was being facetious. That, more than anything, made me inclined to like him a little more, so I smirked at him.

Kimihiro elbowed me again, harder. _"Stop that!"_ he hissed.

"Stop what?" I mumbled back.

"Stop…_looking_ at Yue-san like that."

I did—I smirked at _him_ instead. "Jealous?"

Silence met this statement where I expected nuclear meltdown. I blinked at him; he was gazing at me steadily, his cheeks very slightly red, but he held that glare, and he _didn't_ deny my words.

I was suddenly breathless.

Yue, for his part, suddenly grew very serious as his eyes flitted back and forth between Watanuki and me. "I see," he murmured. "If things have progessed this far…" He lapsed into uneasy silence, then spoke again.

"Dreamwalker," he said gravely. "It is time for the Judgment."

Immediately, I was on my guard again. Judgment? No one—meaning Yuuko—had mentioned anything about a Judgment. What the hell was going on?

Kimihiro seemed equally confused. "Judgment?" he repeated. "What judgment?"

Yue didn't answer him; his wings spread wide and he rose high into the air, his eyes glowing like small silver flames. It was a fearsome image: this heavenly, achingly beautiful being, framed and enclosed by utter blackness all around.

"I am not only Guardian, but Judge as well," he intoned, his voice suddenly much colder. "It is I who decides whether or not you are worthy of the chance to complete your quest."

Kimihiro stepped forward, utter bewilderment written across his features. "I don't und—"

"Now wait a minute," I interrupted angrily, glaring at Yue, who regarded me impassively. "Yuuko said that only Watanuki was able to decide whether he could leave his dream."

"She said nothing of the sort," replied Yue callously. "She told you that it was the Dreamwalker's choice and subsequent responsibility to discover his own means out of the dream. The Advocate would not be so foolish as to promise him freedom from the dream when there exists no definite avenue of escape."

I fumed, but I realized he was right; Yuuko _hadn't_ promised Kimihiro would wake up. An what exactly did Yue mean by Judge and Advocate? What did this judgment involve?

Coming forward to stand beside me, Kimihiro peered up at Yue. "Yue-san," he said uncertainly, "does this mean that I've collected all the Cards?"

"You have been shown your strengths, and you have accepted them," was Yue's reply. "You have been shown your flaws, and you have accepted them. It is now time to decide whether you truly _understand_ them. Without acceptance, there can be no understanding; but understanding can not be achieved merely through acceptance."

"But I haven't accepted the strength or flaw that Tsukishiro-san represented," cried Kimihiro. "Or the one that _you_ represent, Yue-san."

Yue stared down at him imperiously, but I could detect a trace of sympathy in his eyes. "Yukito and I do not represent strength and flaw," he said harshly. "Did you not listen to the legend? It was a story of truth. We are those who represent the two sides of truth. You recognized what you perceived to be your own story when Yukito related the legend, did you not?" he demanded of Kimihiro.

Kimihiro looked startled. "Y-yes."

"That is because your story closely resembles ours," Yue said. "That is why we were chosen. Yukito lived his life unknowing that I slept inside him. When I began to awaken, he quickly began to fade, unable to support two existences with his own power. The person whom he treasured above all others tried to help him realize the truth, but Yukito faded almost into oblivion before that person could supply us with his own power." His voice softened, sounding reluctantly fond for a moment before resuming its frosty quality.

"Yukito had to come to terms with the fact that he was not quite human, that he was my…other self, and I his. He also had to decide whether to allow his closest person to be his power source—he had to choose whether or not to accept that person's decision, and the fact that it was made with the wish that Yukito remain _alive,_ that he _not_ fade away, and that Yukito and that person remain together."

Kimihiro's breath caught. "And…did they?"

Yue looked amused as he lifted one eyebrow. "That is another story," he said mildly. "You should be concerned with your own."

Slowly, Kimihiro backed up a step, then two, then three. "My story?" he whispered, and there was something in his voice that sent a cold shiver through me.

"I told you," Yue said, "that your story parallels ours. You, too, are fading away, Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker. You have a choice to make. Do you accept the legend as Truth?"

Kimihiro hesitated, and Yue's eyes narrowed.

"This is not a matter upon which you can deliberate," he snapped. "You have not a moment to waste. Time is short, and the evil grows strong."

I blinked, remembering Yuuko's cryptic utterance of that phrase before we'd found the first pair of Cards.

"Do you accept the legend as Truth, Dreamwalker? Or will you die clinging to your ignorance? Either choice," Yue warned, "will alter the course of hitsuzen. The fates of all worlds depend upon your answer, Dreamwalker."

Kimihiro went white in the face, and he swayed so alarmingly that I reached out to steady him.

My touch seemed to spark something in him—some shock-dulled defense mechanism—because he went tense suddenly, and spun around to look me in the eye.

"Answer my question, Doumeki," he said quietly.

I blinked. "What?"

"I asked you a question earlier," Kimihiro replied evenly, his eyes iridescent with the emotions whirling through him. "Answer me now."

Cringing mentally, I said quickly, "I wasn't playing around, Watanuki. I—all the things I've done, I—" I faltered, unsure, afraid.

He didn't take his eyes from mine. "Tell me the Truth, Doumeki," he said softly, and I heard the subtle inflection on the word, the emphasis. Every single world was waiting for his answer, and he was waiting for mine.

I stared at him, a hundred thousand images racing around in my brain. Times I'd rescued him, times he'd grudgingly thanked me with home-cooked meals, times he'd simply unleashed every single stress and worry upon me without bothering to apologize, without wondering whether I'd judge him or leave him for it. Times we'd been together—I realized that I could not remember a single time when I hadn't known him, when we'd been separated by such a trivial thing as meeting. As far as I remembered, my life began when we came together; I didn't care whether or not it was because we'd lived in his dreamworld for so long that the memories simply didn't exist anymore. My life consisted of Kimihiro, and that was enough for me.

"I love you," I whispered. "Watanuki Kimihiro, I _love_ you."

He didn't say anything for some time, and I was deathly afraid to move, to speak, to breath.

"That's the truth?" he said finally. There was nothing in his voice that hinted at disgust or pity. I took a deep breath.

"The truest thing I know."

Without hesitating for even a moment, he turned away from me.

I felt everything inside of go cold for one horrible moment. Then he spoke.

"Yue-san," he said clearly. "I accept the legend as Truth."

Something warm, sweet, and hopeful moved through me, and I had to swallow, and stare hard at the nothingness between my shoes. When I was sure I wouldn't lose control of my hard-fought calm, I looked up again.

Yue smiled, and there was something of approval in the curve of his mouth.

"Then let the Judgment begin."

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A/N: This chapter about broke my heart, ate my brain, stole my soul, and impersonated my identity. IT WROTE LABYRINTH FIC INSTEAD OF FINISHING ITSELF—THAT'S MY ONLY EXPLANATION.

Quick note: Yukito's comments on emptiness ("This is how everything begins—with emptiness.") is a direct shout-out to my ASDLKJFINSDIJV!#$ing Buddhism class; particularly the !#$ASDLKAJEONSDLing section of Mahayana Buddhism that deals with the doctrine of emptiness. (DAMN YOU, NAGARJUNA. _DAMN_ YOU.)

Other quick note: Can you guess who Yukito and Yue were talking about? (wink)

Last quick note: Next chapter is the DENOUEMENT! THE CLIMAX! THE BEST PART OF THE STORY! Followed by a short epilogue. And then. WE'RE DONE, LADIES AND GENTS. (confetti) YES, THAT'S RIGHT, TWO MORE CHAPTERS AND I AM OFFICIALLY FREE. (very off-beat happy rhumba)


	8. the bell and the butterfly

_But I can't spell it out for you,  
No, it's never gonna be that simple  
No, I can't spell it out for you _

If you'd just realize what I just realized—  
That we'd be perfect for each other  
And will never find another—  
Just realize what I just realized  
We'd never have to wonder if  
We missed out on each other now… 

from "Realize"

by Colbie Caillat

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_I am very particular about a lot of things in my life. I like to be in a neat environment, characterized by order and serenity—possibly even solitude._

_But lately, "order" has come to feel more like monotony. "Serenity" has become silence. And "solitude" has turned into…_

_Loneliness._

_I have wandered far—from a beginning I don't remember through a past I don't understand into a future I can't foresee. I'm sure there's a meaning to it, somewhere, but I find myself uncaring, uninterested, because making this journey alone has taken a heavy toll on me._

_Except…lately…_

_Am I really…alone?_

**xXx**

_**Dreamwalker: Chapter 8 – The Bell and The Butterfly**_

**xXx**

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Doumeki was trapped in the darkness again, but this he couldn't see either Kimihiro or Yue; he could only see himself. He reached out blindly towards the spot where he knew Kimihiro had been standing—only to feel his fingers slide through empty space.

"Watanuki!" he called, and there was no reply.

For the first time since he'd watched a transparent woman bending over a Kimihiro who was coughing so hard he couldn't breathe, Doumeki felt utter, mindless, paralyzing terror sweep over him.

"Watanuki!" he cried again. "_Watanuki! WATANUKI!"_

Silence mocked him.

He dropped to his knees, unheeding of the tears burning in his eyes and throat.

"KIMIHIRO!"

"He cannot hear you," said a smooth, calm, voice. Doumeki still couldn't see anything, but he could sense the being nearby. "He is undergoing Judgment. There can be no interference. From this point until the end, he is on his own."

"No," Doumeki said hoarsely. "I have to help him. He needs me." He struggled to his feet again. "I promised I would protect him."

"There is no protecting him now," said the voice quietly. "There can be _no_ interference during a Judgment."

Doumeki panted for breath, feeling the tears stinging, threatening to overflow. Angrily he dashed them away—now was no time to cry. Kimihiro _needed _him.

"Let me go to him," he said to the voice.

"No," it replied implacably, somehow managing to sound a bit amused, a bit indulgent. "Any attempt to interfere on your part will result in his automatic disqualification."

"Let me go," Doumeki repeated.

For a moment, there was no response.

"What would you do?" said the quietly. "Stand Judgment in his place?"

Doumeki didn't answer.

"Such an action will accomplish nothing," it went on. "The Judgment was meant for the one the Advocate has chosen."

"Advocate," said Doumeki suddenly, tonelessly. "What do you mean by that?"

The voice sighed, a gentle murmur of sound in the stillness.

"The Advocate," it said after a moment, "decides the one who will undergo Judgment."

Doumeki tensed. Someone had actually _chosen _for Kimihiro to endure the dreamworld? Someone had _chosen _Kimihiro to for this series of emotional torment?

"Who?" said Doumeki in a low voice. "Who was the Advocate?"

A long, long silence was his only response.

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Watanuki opened his eyes and was nonplussed to discover that he was surrounded by vast white again. With a frown of confusion, he peered around.

"Is this part of the Judgment, Yue…san?"

But Yue was gone.

And so was Doumeki.

Watanuki suddenly felt very, very cold. "No," he said in denial so automatically it was very nearly a reflex, his eyes darting from side to side frantically in an effort to catch the slightest hint of Doumeki's presence.

"No," he said again, louder this time, and his voice echoed around the emptiness ominously, almost mockingly. "Doumeki?"

But there was no answer.

There was no Doumeki.

Watanuki was alone.

"Doumeki," he said again, his voice a broken whisper. "Y-You said…you promised…"

_"THEN WHY ARE YOU HERE?" _

"_Because _you_ are."_

"_Well—you—I—that is _not_ a good reason at all!"_

"_Good enough for me."_

But Doumeki wasn't here now. He'd said he was here for Watanuki—he always _had _been before, but if that was the case, why had he disappeared?

_Have I ever lied to you? _said Doumeki's deadpan voice in his mind, and Watanuki's breath hitched.

"Then…where are you?"

No answer.

No Doumeki.

Watanuki was alone.

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Doumeki's eyes were like a laser trained on a spot in the mist. Someone had chosen this fate for his boy—had trapped him in this dreamworld, refused to release him, laid bare all his emotional wounds—and for what? For a thrill? A laugh?

"No," said the voice gently, as if the speaker was listening to Doumeki's thoughts. For all Doumeki knew, it could have been true. "You must understand, Dreamwaker, that the Dreamwalker's hitsuzen was _not_ something that the Advocate chose. Hitsuzen cannot be decided for someone by another person. Hitsuzen is a series of events that are set in motion by that person's own actions. As such, no Advocate could ever decide the fate of their Chosen."

Doumeki glared at Yue, still only half-convinced. Was Yuuko the Advocate? It wouldn't be unlike Yuuko, after all, to put Kimihiro through this as a test of his resolve or something stupid like that. It wouldn't be the first time, come to think of it. She could very well have tried to manipulate Kimihiro's hitsuzen.

The voice chuckled in amusement at the train of Doumeki's thoughts. "The Advocate chose him to receive the Judgment _because _of that fate which was placed upon him before time existed." Now it sounded low and urgent, as if the unseen speaker were trying to will Doumeki to understand something just beyond his ken. "Judgment is an ordeal that has the potential to change worlds. Of those who are suitable for Judgment, the Dreamwalker was the most apt choice, because his was a destiny _meant_ to change worlds. It is—what is the phrase? Killing two birds with one stone."

Doumeki was _not _pleased to hear any mention of killing. Killing and Kimihiro were just not an acceptable combination. The voice chuckled again.

"This Judgment," he said out loud, momentarily abandoning the question of the Advocate's identity. "What kind of Judgment is it?"

The brief pause indicated the speaker was lost in thought for a moment.

"There have been many types of Judgment, just as there are many kinds of Judges—I myself have acted as Judge, though I prefer to delegate such a responsibility. Being the one whose decision changes world can wear on one's nerves," it explained with a half-laugh. Then it grew sober, and murmured, "I have presided over matters ranging from the trivial to the…revolutionary." His eyes rested on Doumeki's face, all seriousness. "The Judgment of the Dreamwalker is one such revolutionary Judgment, one that will require all of the Judge's attention and skill."

Doumeki's brow furrowed. "If you need to be focusing on Watanuki, then why are you here with me?"

The voice was quiet for a moment. "I am not Watanuki-kun's Judge," it said finally.

Doumeki frowned. "You're not Yue?" But of course—why hadn't he recognized the difference in this speaker's voice? Doumeki berated himself fiercely for his lax attention.

"No," said the voice. "Yue is, at this moment, proceeding with the Judgment."

Anixety rose sharply within Doumeki's chest—he prayed desperately for Kimihiro's safety.

"Who are you?" he said to the voice.

A glimmer of light caught his eye, and he turned to see a man materializing out of the darkness. His long black hair was caught back in a trailing queue; he wore a heavy kimono of black and white, with small round glasses perched in the end of his nose. There was a slight smile on his lips—half-sad, half-sympathetic.

"Pleased to meet you, Doumeki Shizuka Dreamwaker," he said quietly. "I am the Advocate, Clow Reed."

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Watanuki wasn't wandering around this time. There was a certain sense of pointlessness to the action, especially when he didn't have Doumeki here to distract him from the boundless white. He stared blankly into the emptiness around him and tried to think coherently. He had to find Doumeki, first of all. No, wait—perhaps he should find _Yue-san_ first of all, and complete this Judgment-thing, and then, maybe, hopefully, he and Doumeki could finally wake up.

_But where will we be?_ he thought wildly. _And _who_ will we be? Will Doumeki still…_

"_I love you… Watanuki Kimihiro, I _love _you… The truest thing I know…"_

His throat felt dry, and Watanuki swallowed hard.

Definitely—Yue-san first, so he could finish the Judgment and wake up. Then he and the archer could…could discuss things and…and…

With a sigh, Watanuki looked around and wondered where he was supposed to start. Frustration welled up inside him.

_Have you given up, then, Dreamwalker?_ taunted a voice in his head. It sounded suspiciously like Yue-san. _Without your precious archer here to carry you to safety, can you not save yourself?_

_No,_ Watanuki wanted to say, but he was irrevocably reminded of when Doumeki had first appeared beside him in this dreamscape. He'd listened to Watanuki's fears, his worries, his sorrows…then had grabbed him and dragged him off to find a way to solve them all.

"_There's a way to save you. There always is. _I _should know."_

Watanuki shivered. Yes, Doumeki _would_ know, wouldn't he? The stoic, single-minded boy had, after all, made it a habit to interfere in every aspect of Watanuki's life—it only stood to reason he would include the matter of Watanuki's death in that category. As much as Watanuki hated to admit it, even to himself, Doumeki always had a fairly good idea of how to take away Watanuki's more serious troubles. The trouble now was that Doumeki himself had been taken away, and Watanuki had no indea were to start looking.

_Usually you meditate to look inside yourself,_ he remembered Doumeki's slow, concise advise._ Deep concentration. Inner serenity. Clear thoughts._

Watanuki blinked. It was as good a place to start as any, he decided, and sat down on what he supposed was the floor on the whiteness. Closing his eyes, he inhaled slowly, deeply, then exhaled. He repeated this process for a few moments, but his thoughts remained just as chaotic.

_Was it this hard to concentrate the first time?_ he wondered.

"_Shut up a second. I'm remembering."_

"_Remembering what?"_

"_The first time you've ever asked me for help."_

He sighed in self-irritation. This…would probably take a while.

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"You're dead," Doumeki informed the Advocate matter-of-factly. "The manjuu said so."

Clow Reed smiled at Doumeki's distrustful scowl. "This dreamworld allows for me to offer my assistance to those who need it. By the way," he said, his smile widening, "I must say I find your name for Mokona extremely apt."

"Right," Doumeki muttered with a shrug, before getting to the point. "I don't need your '_assistance_.'"

Clow's smile didn't falter in the least. "Oh, but you do," he quipped cheerfully. "In fact, I have found that it most often those who do not believe they need assistance, who are in the most dire need for it. Like your Watanuki-kun, for example."

Doumeki had to admit that the man had a very valid point—not just that Watanuki was Doumeki's, but that he often refused Doumeki's help when it meant the difference between life and death. The idiot. "What assistance do I need?"

Now Clow's smile dimmed a little, though it was no less amused. "I have a story to tell you," he said simply.

_Oh, merciful gods. Not another one._ Doumeki frowned. "Is this one a legend too?"

Clow laughed. "As a matter of fact, it is," he agreed. "It's a story about love—its trials, its triumphs, its fancies and follies, its…strengths and weaknesses."

_A love story. I need to find Kimihiro and get us both the hell out of this dream, and he wants me to listen to a damned _love story."Right," Doumeki said flatly. "Why would I need this kind of assistance?"

Clow's eyes fixed on Doumeki's with a quiet sort of intensity. "Because legends are part of history," he said, "and history tends to repeat certain themes—rather like literature—and while the characters are different, the story is the same." Those dark eyes held Doumeki, chilled him even as they warmed him, made him pause and rethink what he'd been about to say.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Tell me."

Clow's lips curved a little more. "Once upon a time," he murmured, "a man loved, and loved completely, and loved foolishly. This man had a great many responsibilities that called for his attention, and so he did not spend his days in pursuit of love. But love found him anyway."

"Where?" Doumeki couldn't stop the word before it escaped him.

Clow let out a hum of laughter. "Kensington Gardens, of all places," he murmured, and while the name was unfamiliar to Doumeki, it was obviously a fond memory for Clow. "Love found him there. Would you believe, he ran right into it. Into _her._"

"Did he," Doumeki said wryly. It was becoming all too clear who the man—and the _her—_in the story was, and Doumeki simply couldn't envision Clow running into anyone, let alone Yuuko.

"Sent her sprawling into the dirt," confirmed Clow, trying not to smile. "He completely bowled her over."

Doumeki snorted.

"It was the most unexpected, unforeseen thing that had happened to him—perhaps to both of them—in too long a time to measure," said Clow with a shake of his head, "and so, instead of helping her up from where he'd accidentally knocked her to the ground, instead of apologizing for his carelessness, he stood staring down at her, unable to believe what had just transpired. Meanwhile, the woman sat on the ground, her skirts rumpled and creased, her long, raven-black hair in disarray, and scolded him fiercely for not looking where he was going. But he was too absorbed in wondering why he hadn't foreseen their paths crossing that he didn't answer. And when the woman scowled up at him in annoyance, he thought to himself, 'Why, she is quite a beauty.' And he asked her very politely, 'Where in the world did you come from?'"

Despite his impatience, Doumeki found his interest, and his amusement, growing. "What did the woman do?"

Clow let out a self-deprecating snort. "She kicked him in the shin and sent him sprawling down beside her."

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This was definitely taking a while.

Watanuki had spent the last fifteen or twenty minutes trying to empty his thoughts, but instead found them full of that arrogant ass Doumeki.

"_What if we don't know each other in that world?"_

"_Then I'd find you. I wouldn't stop looking until I did."_

"_Sorry I'm such bad company."_

"_No you're not. You live to annoy me."_

"_That's my purpose in life."_

"_You do stupid things without thinking, mostly because you think it will help someone else, when really all it does, most of the time, is get you in trouble. Which means _I _have to pull you out of it."_

"_Don't hit him again."_

…_Watanuki glanced up at the archer and thought for a moment he saw something dark move into the gold of his eyes, but when Doumeki looked down at him it was gone, and Watanuki decided the pain in his skull was messing with his brainwaves or something…_

_Doumeki smirked at him. "There must be some mistake. You don't _have_ any luck with the ladies."_

"_You've got all this pent-up energy because you don't get any action."_

"_I GET PLENTY OF ACTION, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!"_

"_The pipefox doesn't count."_

With a growl of frustration, Watanuki's eyes flew open. That utter, complete jerk—how _dare _he say those things to Watanuki! Clearly Watanuki was the superior of the two, so why should he have to suffer such levels of verbal abuse and humiliation and abject confusion at Doumeki's hands—?

A small part of him argued that Doumeki suffered just as much verbal abuse, if not exponentially more, at Watanuki's behest. He ignored that little voice and flopped over onto his back.

_Why can't I figure out what to do?_

He sighed, long and quiet, and threw an arm over his eyes. It was times like these—when he felt confused and frustrated and unsure of himself—that he wanted the most to be back at his little apartment, in his kitchen cooking something or at his tiny table sewing something. When he was creating things he felt the most alive, like he was validating his existence and his importance by bringing something else into existence and granting it its own level of importance.

He thought of Doumeki again, how the big oaf was constantly demanding more of Watanuki's meals, and felt a small reluctant smile tug at his lips. The big idiot probably ate more of Watanuki's cooking than anyone else—than everyone else Watanuki cooked for combined. When he considered how often he served Yuuko, that was a humbling thought.

Watanuki blinked and sat up, frowning. He was supposed to be thinking of a way to find Yue-san and pass the Judgment, not just daydream about stupid Doumeki.

_Is he very important to you?_

Kaede-san's question to him made him flinch just a little bit. Doumeki's place in his life was a complex and mystifying one that Watanuki didn't quite understand. The overgrown ape had always been a thorn in Watanuki's side, and yet he had never once hesitated when it came to saving Watanuki's life. Normally, Watanuki would have showered such a person with gratitude and let go of any grudges he held, but Doumeki was a special case.

He frowned. Why _was _he so unwilling to accept Doumeki's selfless sacrifices, and so hellbent on detailing every single irritating thing the archer represented instead? Was there even a good reason? He had always treated Doumeki that way, hadn't he? It was as if he'd judged the archer to be unworthy of his graciousness…

Judged.

The Judgment.

Hissing at himself in anger, Watanuki sprang to his feet. "_Why_ do I keep getting sidetracked by thoughts of Doumeki?"

"Perhaps they're not sidetracks, but the path you are meant to follow," suggested a woman's voice that sounded an awful lot like Kaede-san's. Watanuki looked wildly around, but he saw no one beside him, behind him, above him, or anywhere near him.

"Where—?" he said in bewilderment.

"Kimihiro-kun should let his heart show him the surest road," agreed Kohane-chan's voice.

Watanuki was utterly perplexed. He knew he'd heard the voices of THE MOTHER and THE MAID, but the Cards weren't anywhere to be seen.

On a hunch, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small deck of Cards—and gaped. The two on top—THE MOTHER and THE MAID—were glowing bright white. However, instead of manifesting themselves in their pictured forms, they merely shone luminously in his hands like small stars.

_Well. That's new, _Watanuki mused.

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"The woman got to her feet," Clow said to Doumeki, linking his fingers together behind his back, "and stood glaring down at the man, who looked up at her in wonder.

"'Who are you?'" demanded the woman, and the man immediately gave her his name without thinking about the possible consequences that result from giving one's name to complete strangers. The woman frowned at his compliance and said, 'Don't you know that to give your name is to give another person power over you?'"

Clow paused, then smiled almost ruefully.

"And the man blinked, and said, 'I suppose that means you have power over me, don't you?' But instead of mollifying the woman, it seemed to anger her even more. 'And what makes you think I want anything to do with you at all?' she snapped at him, and the man climbed to his feet slowly, thinking about her question in all seriousness.

"'Well,' he said to the woman solemnly, 'I don't think you've got a choice anymore.'"

Doumeki made a sound. "She probably wasn't happy with that answer."

"She yelled at him again," admitted Clow.

"Sounds familiar," muttered Doumeki.

Clow gave him an appraising look. "Does it," was all he said, before continuing the story.

"The man's path slowly began to cross the woman's more often, until it became unclear whether or not they had been traveling along the same path after all. They couldn't quite be termed friends—the man loved to irritate her, and the woman, more often than not, retaliated by shouting at him—but they were together more and more as the days passed."

_Definitely familiar,_ decided Doumeki.

"And they began to work together on special projects," Clow said quietly. "They walked the roads that led to other worlds, and used their travels as inspiration for their creations. They looked into the future and saw what time would bring. They often engaged in fantastic adventures, just as often as they sat together by the fire in the evening and discussed them. And the man fell in love with the woman."

Doumeki looked at Clow. "Did Yuuko love you back?"

Clow returned his gaze steadily. He didn't deny the assumption. "She did," he said with a little smile. "But loath was she to admit to any such nonsense."

Doumeki couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"Exactly," commiserated Clow. "But it was partially my own fault. For you see, I myself had never admitted to Yuuko the truth of my love for her. She recognized the meaning behind my actions towards her, but actions without words are empty, Doumeki-kun. Just as empty as love without passion, or promises without honesty. And because I never told Yuuko I loved her, she never told me she felt the same. And so our lives went, we two embroiled in many a mischief and a mystery, and always dancing around a taboo, a forbidden fruit, a shared secret that neither of us dared—or deigned—to acknowledge."

"And then?" said Doumeki when Clow fell silent.

"And then I died," Clow said with a little sigh and a smile. "And I set in motion a series of events that would decide the lives and loves of many people, but not even I dared to toy with Yuuko from beyond death."

A chill raced over Doumeki's skin. "The manjuu says she grieved for you."

A look of inexpressible tenderness flashed over Clow's face. "As I would have had I been the one left behind," he murmured. "Ah, the time we wasted, Doumeki-kun…Yuuko and I could have shared so many more adventures and so many more fireside evenings together if we had simply admitted to our feelings. Love is too precious a treasure not to share, Doumeki-kun. Do not repeat the mistakes that have been once made."

Doumeki thought he could see where this was going. "I'm not going to leave Kimihiro behind," he said flatly.

Clow looked sad for a moment. "Do you believe I meant to leave Yuuko behind?" he asked quietly. "When I foresaw my death, it would have been a good moment—late, but not too late—to tell her how I felt. But instead I concentrated on my own schedule and left Yuuko to hers, and the chance slipped away."

"I'm not going to leave him behind," repeated Doumeki.

Clow smiled. "If anyone could change hitsuzen—change what was already decided—it would be you, Doumeki-kun." His eyes grew very serious. "And that is why you are the Dreamwaker."

Doumeki tensed. "You chose me too?"

Clow gave him a very long look. "If there was anyone who stood a chance of changing the fate of worlds, it was Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker. If there was anyone who stood a chance of changing the fate of the Dreamwalker, it was you, Doumeki Shizuka Dreamwaker." His tone changed, became more authoritative. "I have come to bestow a gift upon you, Dreamwaker."

Shifting his stance—he wanted to be ready for fight or flight—Doumeki said warily, "What gift?"

Clow lifted his hands, and a light grew between them like the light from Watanuki's Cards. It flashed once and then receded, leaving in its wake not a Card, but an oddly-shaped handbell.

Doumeki frowned at it. It looked a little like a crescent moon; there was a group of ribbons several meters long trailing from the bell to the ground, coiling at Clow's feet in a pool of silk and satin.

"This bell will allow Watanuki-kun to think clearly, to see beyond his confusion and frustration to the heart of the matter. It will give him the chance to realize the most important truths of all—those truths that will provide the key to his escape from the dreamworld."

The breath in Doumeki's lungs caught, and he expelled it almost painfully.

"That bell…is for me?" he said slowly.

Clow smiled at him. "On one condition," he agreed. "You must accept the legend as truth, Doumeki-kun. And once you do that, you may interpret it any way you wish, and create your own truth."

Doumeki frowned at him. Of course the legend was truth—he had Kimihiro's and the manjuu's testaments to prove it, didn't he? But then he blinked, and thought that maybe Clow didn't mean the story itself was a historical truth, but the meaning embedded in it…

"_Ah, the time we wasted, Doumeki-kun…Yuuko and I could have shared so many more adventures and so many more fireside evenings together if we had simply admitted to our feelings."_

"_Do you believe I meant to leave Yuuko behind?"_

"_Love is too precious a treasure not to share, Doumeki-kun. Do not repeat the mistakes that have been once made."_

Doumeki closed his eyes briefly and then refocused on Clow, who was holding the bell like an offering.

"I accept," he said quietly.

Clow smiled.

.1.

.0.

.4.

The Cards in Watanuki's hands all began to glow in the same way THE MOTHER and THE MAID were, until Watanuki had to close his eyes tightly to protect himself from the blinding glare. A maelstrom of voices entered his mind.

"Don't be an idiot," snapped the Ame-Warashi in his head. "You know what it means that you can't get your mind off him. You're just being your usual stupid self in denying it."

"Watanuki-san is a very kind person," added the Zashiki-Warashi's voice. "There must be a very good reason why he treats Doumeki-san so differently from the way he treats everyone else in his life." With that, THE LADIES faded into the jumble of sound.

_I…I do? There is?_ Watanuki felt as if he was being pulled in a hundred different directions, and above the cacophony of enthusiastic voices, one very familiar tone rose above the chaos.

"Watanuki-kun's actions toward Doumeki-kun are very significant," said the voice of THE LUCK, of Himawari-chan. "I've told you to pay attention to your words and actions, haven't I? Think about how your words and actions in regard to Doumeki-kun very carefully, okay?"

_O..,okay,_ agreed Watanuki slowly.

"Good luck, Watanuki-kun!" chirped THE LUCK before being overtaken by another voice.

"Watanuki-April-First!" sang THE FORTUNE, and Watanuki winced at the exuberance it displayed. "You've done a good job at collecting the Cards!"

"There were only six of them," muttered Watanuki, but Mokona made a buzzing noise.

"It doesn't matter how many, it matters that you accepted them all, and all their feelings," it pointed out. "And maybe that means you can find it in your heart to accept someone else's feelings, right?"

_I—what—that's—_ But before Watanuki could deny THE FORTUNE's claim, it too faded into the discord in his mind.

And then all went silent.

Watanuki peeked open one eye. A single Card remained glowing in the small stack he held in his hands. He flipped through them even though he knew by process of elimination which Card it must be.

_Watanuki Kimihiro,_ said a voice, but even though it was in his mind, something compelled him to look up.

The pipefox, in his large, nine-tailed fox form, was standing in front of him.

"Mugetsu," whispered Watanuki, lowering the Cards. His hands dropped to his sides, his right clutching the Cards, his left curled into a loose fist.

_I was the first of the Cards to speak to you,_ came Mugetsu's gentle rumble. _And I am now the last. I come to you with the hope that you have taken my lesson to heart, Dreamwalker._ It stood and padded to Watanuki, its tails undulating in an unseen breeze. _You have been given a love that is greater and truer than any other you could hope to receive. Do you have the strength to accept that love, and the courage to return it?_

It lifted its muzzle, and Watanuki's free hand came up to rub slowly under its chin. It made a noise somewhat like a purr before it simply faded into the whiteness, and the Card in Watanuki's hand stopped glowing, and everything was, once more, silent.

_To return it?_ Watanuki thought dazedly, his eyes wide and unseeing. _Can I…can I be in love with Doumeki? Is that possible?_

"All things are possible," said a soft, musical voice. "The question is whether or not the possibility is inevitable."

Yuuko shimmered into sight beside him, looking for all the world as though she had been there the entire time. She was wearing the kimono with the elaborate butterfly-wing obi that she'd worn the night she'd told Watanuki about the dreams.

"Watanuki-kun," she said, shaking her head slowly as if in exasperation. "Didn't I tell you before? Everything comes down to hitsuzen."

Watanuki stared at her, unable to process the words in his head for a moment.

"Was I—always supposed to be with Doumeki?" he said quietly.

"Hmm," said Yuuko, with a slight curving of her lips. "I wonder." Her non-answer was so typical, so usual, so _Yuuko_, that Watanuki felt tears well up in his eyes. He lifted his Card-free hand to swipe at them with his knuckles.

"Yuuko-san," he said with a sigh. "I want to go home."

Yuuko tilted her head at him.

"Do you know where that is?" she asked him.

Watanuki blinked at her, then down at the Cards in his hand. More tears spilled down his face.

"No," he whispered.

"Until you do," came Yue's voice, "you cannot leave the dreamworld, Watanuki Kimihiro Dreamwalker."

The being, like Yuuko, appeared on Watanuki's other side, his great white wings blending into the vastness that surrounded the three of them. His robes were only distinguished by the shadows created by the ripples in the cloth. His eyes flashed like molten silver at Watanuki.

"I have been watching you closely, Watanuki Kimihiro, though you have not seen me," Yue told him quietly. "You have proven to me that you possess the capability for handling the responsibility that has been given you. You are the Dreamwalker. Your Cards offer you their support and their guidance. You have accepted each in its turn. It is done. The Judgment is complete."

Yue slowly rose in the air, his wings spread wide, his robes fluttering, his hair whipping about him.

"I, Yue the Judge, recognize Watanuki Kimihiro as the Dreamwalker," he intoned. And with a smile, he added quietly, "Tsukishiro wants me to give you his congratulations and wish you good luck."

"Oh," said Watanuki blankly. "Thank you. And—and Tsukishiro-san, as well."

With a nod, Yue disappeared, and Yuuko and Watanuki were left staring at one another.

"Now what?" asked Watanuki cautiously, and Yuuko smiled a little.

"Now it's up to you," she said. "You say you want to return home. That rests entirely on your own shoulders, Watanuki."

Watanuki sighed. "I don't suppose I could wish for it?" he asked hopefully, though he knew the answer already. She'd already told him, hadn't she?

Yuuko's smile became a little sad. "I can't grant a wish like that, Watanuki," she said softly. "I can only help you find the key to granting it yourself. It is your choice to open the door, and also your choice to walk through it."

He'd been afraid of that. "What if I _don't_ find a key?"

"You must listen to your heart, Watanuki," Yuuko said to him. "There is a key. Your heart will tell you."

"My heart," murmured Watanuki, lifting his Card-holding hand and pressing the small deck to his chest.

"You cannot return home if you do not know where home is, Watanuki-kun," added Yuuko almost sadly.

Watanuki closed his eyes, and the tears slipped down his face.

Out of the silence and the stillness, a bell began to chime.

.1.

.0.

.4.

Doumeki, gripping the bell tightly in his fist, waited while the first three peals echoed in the blackness.

Clow, behind him, stood silent and watchful.

_Please, Kimihiro,_ prayed Doumeki as the bell's ringing began to fade away, _please hear me. Wherever you are, please hear me and _listen_ this time. _

He swung the bell again, three times, and trained all his being on the sound of the chimes bouncing around him.

_If you never hear me again…_

He rang it again when the chimes faded.

_If you never listen to another word I say…_

He shook it again.

_If I can never reach you after this no matter what I do…_

And again.

_If this is the last time…then please, just this once…just once more…let me come to your rescue._

He prepared to shake the bell again, but it disappeared from his hand as though it had never been. Doumeki turned to Clow.

"What do I do now?"

Clow looked at him with a very serious expression, his usual smile gone.

"Check your pockets," he said.

.1.

.0.

.4.

As the sound of the bell permeated the air around Watanuki, it was as if a great wind had blown away the storm of his thoughts. His mind was suddenly calm, peaceful, empty. He felt his lips curve at the absence of the swirling chaos.

From the recesses of his suddenly clear mind came an image Doumeki's face, and Watanuki took a slow, careful breath. Perhaps THE MAID and THE MOTHER had been right—the constancy of his thoughts of Doumeki were not a sidetrack. They were, somehow, the key to his Judgment, to his dream. To himself.

"_There's a way to save you. There always is. _I _should know."_

"_I'd find you. I wouldn't stop looking until I did."_

"_I love you. Watanuki Kimihiro, I _love _you."_

_I love you._

**I love you.**

"Doumeki," murmured Watanuki, eyes still closed, only half-aware he spoke aloud. "Doumeki Shizuka. I…"

.1.

.0.

.4.

Doumeki slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew the small mirror. His eyes widened as he saw the vision of Kimihiro's face in the mirror, eyes closed in serene slumber.

But something was different now.

There were tears falling from Kimihiro's eyes, and his mouth was moving.

"What…?"

His eyes widened as he recognized his own name being formed on Kimihiro's lips. _Doumeki Shizuka._

Kimihiro was calling him?

"This is…is this the real Kimihiro?" he asked Clow without looking at him. "This Kimihiro is the one who will wake up in the real world?"

"Wasn't he always?" came Clow's voice.

Doumeki paused, staring at the mirror. "Let me go to him," he said finally, repeating the words he'd spoken to Clow upon first being separated from Kimihiro. "He needs me."

There was no answer.

Doumeki turned around.

Clow was gone.

.1.

.0.

.4.

Watanuki's eyes remained closed, but his mind was suddenly whirling again, his heart racing, as he teetered on the brink of a huge revelation.

His thoughts had constantly returned to Doumeki during the course of his Judgment, hadn't they? And all his Cards had known it, and they had understood why. And maybe…maybe Watanuki did too.

"My heart," he said again, pressing the Cards against it, without opening his eyes. "My dream. This is the key, isn't it, Yuuko-san? My heart is what will let me leave the dreamworld?"

"Wasn't it always?" came Yuuko's voice.

Watanuki paused, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. "It's Doumeki—he's the key," he said finally, speaking the words that his heart was trembling with. "I love him."

There was no answer.

Watanuki opened his eyes.

Yuuko was gone.

.1.

.0.

.4.

The world went white. The dream crumbled.

Doumeki felt himself falling through time and space, and clutched the mirror in his fist to keep from losing it.

Watanuki let out a yell of surprise as he slipped through dimensions, pressing the Cards even tighter to his chest to keep them from scattering.

Doumeki heard the yell and blindly reached out his freed hand.

It connected with Watanuki's flailing one. He clutched it, locked his fingers into Watanuki's, and pulled with all his might, bringing Watanuki crashing against his chest. The mirror and the stack of Cards were smashed between them, and with a flash of light, both disappeared, leaving Watanuki and Doumeki clasped in a desperate embrace.

They fell together.

.1.

.0.

.4.

A/N: Yes, I realize the double meaning of the last line. It was deliberate. And this is it, ladies and gents—only the epilogue left, which is already complete. I'll post it after I post this epic mass of death. I hope I haven't disappointed anyone.

Ignore me, I'm raving. Please go read.


	9. the end and the epilogue

_We were strangers starting out on a journey_

_Never dreaming what we'd have to go through_

_Now here we are, and I'm suddenly standing_

_At the beginning with you_

from "At the Beginning"

by Richard Marx and Donna Lewis

_A__nd I'm feeling like we've missed out on everything  
I just hope it's worth the fight  
'Cause this is a battle  
And it's your final last call_

_It was a trial—you made a mistake, we know _

_But why aren't you sorry? _

**Why aren't you sorry? **

_**Why? **_**  
**_Things could be better—you can be happy…_

Try…

from "Battle"

by Colbie Caillat

.1.

.0.

.4.

It was almost anti-climactic that they found themselves in the same place they'd been in at the beginning of the journey: at Yuuko's shop, otherwise surrounded by vast whiteness, with Watanuki being sheltered by Doumeki. And they were surrounded by whiteness.

Watanuki pulled away immediately.

"Oh great," he exclaimed sarcastically, trying to disguise the pounding of his heart. _Is it possible to reveal you're in love by hugging someone? Probably, right?_ "At the beginning again," he griped, swallowing hard over the dryness of his throat.

"New beginning."

Doumeki's voice was so matter-of-fact that Watanuki stared at him.

"What?"

The archer lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "We finished. That was the end. Now we're at a new beginning."

"You're saying we have to start over?" demanded Watanuki.

Doumeki shook his head in the negative. "You collected the Cards. You passed the Judgment. The task is completed. We're done with it. So we start _again_, not _over_. New beginning," he repeated.

"You don't make any sense." Watanuki glared at him. "I think you're trying to confuse me on purpose. Admit it, you jerk, you're doing it on purpose."

His companion turned his head and fixed him with a condescending look. "Idiot."

"_Who are you calling an idiot?"_ thundered Watanuki. His fist clenched around the cards still in his hand. "YOU SAID—"

"New. Beginning." Doumeki's expression suggested that Watanuki was indeed, as the archer had often suspected, an utter ass. "Starting over means repeating the same journey, with the same beginning, middle, and end." He shook his head again. "Starting again means a completely different path, with a _new beginning._ Get it?"

And he did, Watanuki realized suddenly. He understood perfectly.

"I—that's—hmph." He jerked his body around to face the other way, not wanting to admit defeat. "I suppose you learned that from Haruka-san, too."

"No. Video games."

At this, Watanuki whipped around and roared,_ "VIDEO GAMES HAVE _NOTHING_ TO DO WITH REAL LIFE. YOU CANNOT COMPARE THE TWO. IT IS STUPID TO APPLY ANY CONCEPT YOU LEARN FROM PLAYING VIDEO GAMES TO _REAL_ LIFE BECAUSE GAMES ARE _NOT REAL_ AND—"_

"Who are you to decide what's real or not real?" retorted Doumeki.

All the color drained from Watanuki's face. "I—that's not—" He stared at Doumeki, who seemed to realize that he'd said something horribly wrong. "That's not fair," he whispered finally. His knees felt weak; his ears were roaring; and inside he felt a deep, slashing pain that Doumeki could say such a thing to him, could _mean_ it. "I—I _am _real," he whispered in a voice that shook with his own uncertainty of the truth. "You—you said so. Before." Had Doumeki changed his mind? The thought of it—so soon after his realization that he was in love with the archer—slashed like a sword through his heart.

Doumeki looked uncomfortable. "I didn't mean it like that," he said slowly, those tawny eyes on Watanuki's bloodless cheeks. "I only meant that those kinds of decisions are beyond your power."

"Oh." The feeling was returning to his legs. Watanuki felt that heavy weight of hurt lifting as if carried by wings. "Oh," he said again helplessly. "So you don't think…" He swallowed nervously around a throat as dry as dust. "You don't think I'm…"

Doumeki looked fierce now, and almost furious, as much with himself as with Watanuki. "You're real, Watanuki," he said in a low, iron-clad rumble. "I've told you before. You're a person with thoughts and feelings, who goes through life each day because you have the will to live. You have memories of people in your life whom you've interacted with, and those memories and interactions have changed you. If that doesn't make you real, then…" For a half-second, the archer looked bleak and anguished, and Watanuki felt something inside him ache sharply, but then Doumeki went on without a trace of emotion coloring his expression or voice, "Then I've spent three years chasing after an illusion, which makes me just as…not-real as you."

Watanuki stared at him, the hurt ebbing away. Anger rose so swiftly in its place that he actually saw red. _"Well, excuse me for being such a bother all these years! _I never _forced_ you to come along on Yuuko's missions with me, and I _certainly_ never asked you to keep exorcising spirits even though you _kept getting injured_ and _coming back_ like some sort of _stupid person._ And _so sorry_ if all the bentos I made for you weren't _ever good enough_, it's not like you made it easy on me either—"

Hands—rough, strong, callused, scarred hands; wide of palm, long of finger—grabbed him by the upper arms so tightly that he choked on a gasp.

Doumeki's eyes were blazing, twin golden flames that snapped and hissed like vipers. Watanuki was astonished; he'd only ever seen Doumeki this angry once: when he'd found out that Watanuki had given up his eyes to remove the spider's grudge from Doumeki. At that time, Watanuki had felt shock and confusion as Doumeki pinned him against the wall and demanded in a furious voice that Watanuki call Yuuko. He felt almost entirely the same now, except instead of being up against the wall, he was pretty much pinned against Doumeki himself, whose steel grip had jerked Watanuki closer until the two of them were actually toe to toe, shoulders brushing against each other's.

Watanuki felt a flutter in his stomach that had nothing to do with his shock and confusion.

Doumeki shook him once, like a doll. "Damn you," he whispered through gritted teeth. "_Damn_ you, you dense little fool, _that's not what I meant."_

Watanuki breathed in once slowly, then exhaled. "What did you mean, then?" he said softly. This was dangerous ground he was treading; Doumeki's temper was slow but lethal when aroused.

"I told you—I _love_ you," Doumeki said in a low, harsh voice. "That means forever. That means no matter what. That means _everything_."

Another flutter brushed delicately against his insides, and he shivered.

Doumeki's fingers were holding him in a vice grip. "I mean," he said raggedly, "that if you're not real, then I'm not real either. If you don't exist, then neither do I. I'm—" His voice lowered so much that Watanuki, though pressed chest to chest with him, had to strain to hear that raw, choked whisper.

"I'm _nothing_ without you."

All the air inside Watanuki seemed to flood out in one huge rush. He was staring up at Doumeki from mere inches away, so close that their breath mingled, so close that he could feel Doumeki's heart racing madly against the frantic pace of his own. There was, Watanuki thought with panic, absolutely _no way _to misunderstand.

Doumeki was in love with him.

Emotions crowded inside Watanuki—relief, shock, confusion, worry, embarrassment, joy—emotions he hadn't let himself feel when Doumeki had first uttered those words, just before the Judgment. But nothing of anger, nothing of fear. Nothing of denial. It was a simple, stunning truth, undeniable, inexplicable, part of a never-ending series of simple, stunning, undeniable, explicable truths: The sun rose in the east, the moon changed phases, the earth spun round on its axis, and _Doumeki Shizuka loved Watanuki Kimihiro._

Watanuki couldn't think past his own reaction. Before he could even begin to decipher the vortex of voices in his head, Doumeki had let go of him and stepped back, that inscrutable non-expression on his face again.

Blushing, Watanuki also stepped away, then spun on his heel to hide his red face from Doumeki.

_Oh gods oh gods what do I do now? I don't know I can't think what do I say to him? I love him I love him but can I tell him? We can't leave yet I don't know how we wake up or how long we'll be here there's nothing else to do and oh gods what do I _do?

He squeezed his eyes shut and _wished_.

Yuuko's voice rang in his ears. _I can't grant a wish like that, Watanuki. I can only help you find the key to granting it yourself. It is your choice to open the door, and also your choice to walk through it. _

Yue's voice followed after Yuuko's: _For within the other boy lay a truth that would forever bind the two of them together, a protection that only the other boy could give him. It would grant the Boy the strength to leave the enchanted sleep and merge his two existences. He had but to accept that truth._

Slowly, his eyes opened and stared dazedly into the nothingness surrounding him. Could it be that easy? he wondered in awe. Could it really be something so simple—and yet so very, very hard?

It was worth a try.

_For him. Because he always tried for me, no matter what the circumstances, no matter what I said or did to make him do otherwise, he always tried for me._

_It's my turn to try._

"Hey, Doumeki." He said the words casually, remembering their time wandering about the dreamscape hand in hand, him relentlessly pestering Doumeki with questions, Doumeki patiently answering or ignoring him as he saw fit. Watanuki's voice was soft with wonder, with mingled joy and fear. He turned around slowly to find Doumeki looking at him without any clues giving away his thoughts.

"…What?" The word was gruff, terse. Watanuki nearly smiled.

"Dou—Shizuka," he said on a whim. Then, almost shyly, "Can…can I call you Shizuka?"

At Doumeki's suddenly startled look, Watanuki felt himself flush, and felt the dreamy confidence inside him vanish like smoke. Suddenly unsure of himself, he snapped defensively, "What, is that a _problem?_ I _should_ be able to call you Shizuka since I've been forced to put up with your attitude for _way_ too lo—"

He stopped and looked blankly down at the cards in his hand, then took a deep breath and continued in a slightly less forceful voice, "I mean, since I've…"

_Been with you,_ supplied his subconscious.

No, that was too girly. He was going to do this like a goddamn man or not at all. "Since you've…"

_Been a part of my life,_ insisted his subconscious.

Also far too girly. He'd be lucky if Doumeki only laughed at him without rejecting him outright. "Since we've…"

_Been together, _suggested his subconscious.

NO. DAMN IT, STOP HELPING, Watanuki ordered his subconscious. "I…uh…since we've…known each other for a long time now," he finished somewhat lamely, aware of Doumeki's eyes fixed on him unwaveringly, but still finding himself unable to look at the archer. "And since you irritate the living crap out o—" He felt a twinge of guilt and amended himself again, "I mean, since we're on…uh, fairly…"

_Close. Intimate. _Damned nosy subconscious.

I SAID SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU IDIOT, BEFORE YOU GET US INTO AN EVEN MORE EMBARRASSING SITUATION. It felt odd to yell at himself instead of Doumeki. "Friendly terms," he finally decided was the safest way to phrase it."

Now Doumeki was outright staring. "Right. Friendly." There was something in his voice—dissatisfaction? Disappointment?—that made Watanuki's breath catch for a moment before he went on in a rush.

"Right. Friendly." He realized he had just repeated Doumeki's words, and flushed again.

"Kimihiro."

At the sound of his own name—his given name, said simply, softly, with no honorifics whatsoever yet somehow managing to sound reverent anyway—Watanuki's eyes slipped closed, and he felt a jolt of pure pleasure travel down his spine. It had been so long—_so long—_since anyone had said his name like that. Not even Kohane-chan said it the way Doumeki—

Watanuki opened his eyes, wondering if the archer could see the dazed joy reflected in them. "Yes?" His voice was hushed too, almost husky.

For a moment, it seemed, Doumeki hesitated, his eyes widening at the tone of Watanuki's voice. When he spoke, his own voice matched the quality of the shorter boy's. "I don't mind if you call me Shizuka."

Watanuki, lost in the intensity of Doumeki's eyes, could only nod.

They stood for some few seconds, just looking at each other.

"Shizuka," murmured Watanuki at last, in that same quiet voice.

"What?"

But instead of answering, Watanuki found that he felt perfectly content to let his eyes roam over Doumeki's face, tracing curves and angles, exploring shadows, sliding over planes and contours, as if he was memorizing them all. There was strength in that face—strength and determination. There was brutality in the sharp frown, softened by a sensual kind of mercy in the full shape of the lips. There was courage in the tilt of the chin, stubbornness in the set of the jaw. There was humor in those eyes, Watanuki thought dreamily, just as often as there was irritation.

And for the first time, Watanuki realized with a startled blink: Doumeki had very cute ears. If he were to bite one, just a nip, nothing harmful, would Doumeki blush and shiver? Would he look at Watanuki with heat and promise? Would he—

"Ki…Kimihiro?"

Watanuki jumped, his reverie broken by Doumeki's whisper. The archer was looking at him with veiled caution; that look said that he'd noticed Watanuki's intent perusal of his face; the tone of his voice had roughened, deepened, and lowered about half an octave.

"Y-yes?" In contrast, thought Watanuki with a resigned mental sigh, his own voice had _risen_ about half an octave, and was now breathless and trembling.

"What do we do now?"

Watanuki blinked at the question. "Do?"

"To get out of here."

Oh. That. Watanuki felt a momentary surge of panic at the thought of confessing his love, and was on the verge of denying any and all knowledge of the subject whatsoever. Then he looked at Doumeki.

The archer was watching him with what would have been his usual deadpan expression; but Watanuki knew his own heart now, and that helped him to understand Doumeki's, and he could see that behind the mask of indifference, Doumeki's eyes were filled with a desperate sort of hope—hope that what he'd read in Watanuki's expression hadn't simply been a trick of the imagination; hope that Watanuki's agreement to a first-name basis was the prelude to something_ more;_ hope that Watanuki could finally escape this dream world, and wake up to be _real_ once more.

He read all those hopes in Doumeki's eyes, and felt suddenly very calm and very peaceful. He heard his Cards' voices murmuring encouragement in his mind, heard Yuuko's faintly amused laughter trailing through the jumble, and, if he was very still, heard the beating of his own heart.

_You must listen to your heart, Watanuki. There is a key. Your heart will tell you._

_I can only help you find the key. It is your choice to open the door, and also your choice to walk through it._

"Shizuka."

He saw the hope flare in Doumeki's eyes again. "Yes?"

_Because I am not alone._

_Because I am in love._

Watanuki strode towards the archer until they were standing merely a foot apart—_I will meet him honorably, as a man speaking to a man—_straightened his spine—_I will stand tall_—lifted his chin firmly—_so he will know that this is the most important thing to me_—met Doumeki's gaze unwaveringly—_so he can see the truth in my eyes—_and smiled.

"I need to tell you something."

.1.

.0.

.4.

A/N: Yes, my dear, dear loves—that's the end. Dreamwalker is officially finished. (sweeps a bow) And for my LJ friends--Thank you for your support and reviews and endless propositions—I enjoyed every moment of it all, and I'd do it again!

In fact, I AM doing it again—with "Those Who Favor Fire." XDDD Jump on over to my profile on LJ (sillyangelfaery) and catch my latest adventure with these two star-crossed swains!


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